What Comes After
by MiHnn
Summary: After the Last Battle, Harry Potter had only one question: now what? And Hermione Granger seems to be the only one with a satisfying answer. - A multi-chapter told in the form of 100 drabbles. Later chapters might become rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This is a writing challenge that I've put on myself. **

**Requirements : Each chapter must be a drabble (less than 1000 words), Each chapter must have Harry and Hermione (at least by passing), I must use one of the 100 prompts I've been given per drabble, and I must use the daily prompt given as it is. **

**That means 2 prompts per chapter, and 100 chapters for this story. This should be interesting.  
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**Thank you to Heart of Spellz for the quick beta work.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any shape or form. Or the franchise ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Losing you and Broken (Prompts)<strong>

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Harry stood still as he stared unseeingly at the rising sun. He had seen countless sun rises and sun sets, but nothing had compared to this.

Behind him stood his home for seven years: Hogwarts. The place where he learned who he was, met his friends, his mentor, the people he respected, the people he loved. And now it stood in ruins; almost as if the crumbling stones and stench of smoke was a statement of its end.

He was very much aware of the people who were within the castle; those who had suffered and retained injuries- some curable, some not, and those who were now to be given a burial of utmost respect. If anyone had asked him, he would have replied honestly that he had never expected to survive the Final Battle. Everything he did, he did to save those who were closest to him. To have lost some of them...

His glasses were broken, chipped and bent in a way that he could hardly see when the orange rays became brighter before him. The sun came out like a beacon of hope, showering much needed light over the night that had ended in darkness. They were victorious, but at what price?

He had lost his parents, then his Godfather, and now Remus? How was he supposed to accept that? The death of the last of his father's most trusted friends hurt him physically. The bruises and open wounds across his skin couldn't compare to the loss he was suffering, just as he knew that others were suffering just like him.

"Harry?"

Looking back, Harry saw the concerned eyes of his best friend. He couldn't handle it right now. He couldn't talk about himself, as he knew Hermione would want to, when there were others inside the castle mourning the dead.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, her steps slow as she came to stand beside him.

The light touched her face gently; the sun causing her mangled, blood stained hair to almost glow. How very ironic, he thought. "Where's Ron?"

She hesitated, knowing that what she was about to say was not what he wanted to hear. "He's with the others." He nodded in understanding before he turned to face the sun rise once more. What was there to say, really? His best mate had lost his brother. There was nothing he could say or do to comfort him. They would probably blame him for not doing better, which he would agree with. He could have done better.

Hermione stood watching him for a moment before she stepped in front of him. He expected her to give him a good talking to, demand that he be the leader she always knew he was and go into that castle and bring some order in to that chaos. Instead, she raised her hands and gently took off his glasses. Pulling out Bellatrix's wand, she mumbled a spell that he remembered from so long ago, "Reparo." The glasses mended instantly, with only one side of the frame staying crooked; the imperfection a glaring proof that the wand was not one that belonged to its master. Frowning at her spell work, Hermione handed him back his glasses. "Here."

Harry took them from her silently before placing them back on the bridge of his nose. It was nice, being able too see everything clearly again.

His best friend then moved back to stand right beside him as she too looked at that one spot over the Black Lake like he did. He felt her warm hand brush against his gently before her palm met his and together they entangled their fingers; drawing friendship and support from one another.

And silently, they watched the sun rise over the grounds of Hogwarts; marking the beginning of a new day.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Defining Moment and Motion (Prompts)**

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They had been sitting quietly for some time, both in their own worlds, with their own thoughts. Harry with his elbows resting on his raised knees and Hermione sitting cross-legged beside him as she occasionally plucked blades of grass only to play with it for a moment and then discard them.

He became aware of how she shifted uncomfortably, her glances falling on him only to look away quickly. She was fighting the urge to tell him something.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, she looked at him carefully. "We should go back."

He wanted to, he really did. But he found his feet glued to the ground. He wanted to go back in to the castle and give his assistance, but a part of him just wanted to wait. Wait until it was all over, everyone knew what they needed to do and all he had to do was take orders. He had lived enough of a life giving orders.

"Harry." Hermione's voice nudged him lightly. "You can't stay here forever. People are counting on you." At his responsive silence, she let out a despondent sigh. "_Ron_ is counting on you."

That last sentence shook him. He couldn't help but feel a selfish need to stay where he was and wallow in his self-pity. Ron wasn't the only one who had lost someone last night. Was he supposed to go comfort his mate instead of dealing with all the deaths that had happened because of him? "You should go," he said softly. "Go to Ron, I mean."

Hermione let out a light laugh. "I tried. He just..." She plucked another blade of grass, rolling the leaf between her fingers as she frowned thoughtfully at it. "He doesn't want me to," she muttered softly.

Harry turned to face her for the first time during this conversation. "He doesn't want you to?"

Shrugging, Hermione flicked the crushed up piece of grass away from her. "He won't talk to me. If anything, he's been avoiding me," she said sarcastically.

"I'm sure it's in your head."

"I'm sure it's not."

Harry watched her as she picked another piece of grass, then another, and another. She did the same to every leaf, crushing the blades until they were pathetic balls of green before discarding them. If he hadn't spent months with her, he would have thought he couldn't remember the last time she seemed so agitated. Only thing is, he did.

"Ginny's looking for you," Hermione said cautiously before she sneaked a peak at him.

Stubbornly, he looked away from her.

"You shouldn't be avoiding her."

Deep down, he knew he missed that absolutely bossy tone of hers. Since the beginning of the Horcrux hunt, everything had been uncertain. It was refreshing to hear something that reminded him of the days before. Fighting a smile at her tone, Harry mumbled lightly, "I'm not."

"Harry," Hermione laughed, "the one thing you have in common with Ron, and which I _absolutely_ hate is your communication skills. It's just _awful._" Her tone became suddenly serious. "She's looking for you. You should go talk to her."

"And tell her what? Sorry about what happened? She doesn't want to see me, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "You're wrong." In one fluid movement, she stood up, dusting her jeans in the process. "Are you coming?"

Harry squinted up at her through his glasses. "You came here to drag me in, didn't you?" He shook his head, a clear sign of disagreement. "I'm not ready yet."

"You know, we don't have only one defining moment in our lives. I know you think yours was when you faced Voldemort, but that was only one. How you react now, how you care about others are all defining moments; not just for you but for those around you. You can't hide forever, Harry. You knew you couldn't hide from your fate, and this is no different. You can't hide from the expectation of others. They look up to you. I know you didn't ask for it, but if you can help them through this, shouldn't you?"

Harry kept his jaw locked shut. If he didn't, he would have snapped at her for insinuating that he had no control over his life even after he had vanquished the one thing that had kept him from a normal life.

She looked at him kindly. "Just think about it." And with that passing statement, she turned around and started heading to the castle.

Harry watched her for a moment, a million retaliations working in his mind, before he too got to his feet and followed her. At that moment, he had only one penetrating thought in his mind: he hated it when she was right.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Journal Entry and Sarcasm (Prompts)**

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Harry entered the Great Hall for the first time since he had thrown the Invisibility Cloak over himself and secretly made his way to the Headmaster's Office with Ron and Hermione in tow. Almost collectively, everyone looked up at him. And he found himself unable to look away.

They all looked at him kindly; some with tears in their eyes from mourning their loved ones, and others giving him nods of understanding and respect as he passed by. He couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve what they thought of him. He was one person after all; one person who had people around him fighting the cause with him. He didn't do it alone, and he wished everyone didn't treat him like he did.

Harry kept his head down as he walked down the halls, taking in everyone who was seated at the long house tables while holding each other in support. Only one person smiled at him encouragingly: Hermione. And his gaze couldn't help but fall on the person who was sitting right next to her. Ginny met his eyes hopefully; her expression causing him to move his gaze away from her and instead focus on the other people within the Hall. He knew that she wanted him to comfort her. But he just couldn't. Not now.

Ron stood up from the Ravenclaw table - where the rest of his family sat - and made his way towards him. "Kingsley wants to see you."

Harry nodded before he looked around the Hall once more. Everyone continued to stare at him, causing him to shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. At Ron's gesture, he decided to ignore everyone and follow his best friend.

They found Kingsley talking to McGonagall in soft whispers outside in the quart yard. It was the first time in a long time that he saw McGonagall smile at him. It was short, pained, but it was still a smile. "Mr. Potter, I fear we may need you to do something for us."

"What is it Professor?" he asked respectfully, even if all he wanted to do was leave Hogwarts as soon as possible.

Kingsley looked over Harry's shoulder at Ron with a cautious glance before his eyes met Harry's. "We will need you to tell us where you dropped the Resurrection Stone."

Harry simply stared at them incredulously, which caused the two adults to share a look before they turned to face him again.

"We need to ensure that the stone doesn't fall into the wrong hands," Kingsley said strongly.

"I don't understand," Harry mumbled. "It's nothing without the Invisibility Cloak and the Elder Wand. I have the Cloak and the Wand is once again buried. What harm can it do?"

"What harm can it do?" McGonagall questioned outrageously. "Potter, the Resurrection Stone has its own magical properties that can have devastating effects if it falls into the wrong hands."

"Then it's a good thing that it won't then, right Professor?" Harry asked bitingly. He couldn't help but notice how Kingsley looked to the side quickly. Following his gaze, he saw Hermione a fair bit of distance away, waiting for him. As McGonagall started talking, they shared a small smile.

"We need to keep it safe, Potter. Letting the stone lie about in the Forbidden Forest will keep it vulnerable to those who would want to use it for all the wrong things."

"Only a few of us know that it fell in the Forbidden Forest, Professor," argued Harry.

"And there is no guarantee that no one will ever find out and they won't come looking for it."

"I'll make sure not to add its location in my next journal entry then," Harry said sarcastically.

Kinglsey looked at him kindly. "Harry, I know it seems like the stone should just be left alone, but we're trying to make sure that no one who would use the stone for wrong intentions would get their hands on it. We're trying to protect it."

Harry shook his head in disagreement. "I'm sorry but Dumbledore told me I should let it be where it is."

They stared at him in surprise. "He _told_ you?" McGonagall asked him anxiously.

"Yeah," Harry said confidently, "he did."

And with that final statement, he turned to leave. Ron leaned close to whisper, "You do realize that that was a painting, yeah?" Harry simply grinned as his best mate fell into a comfortable step behind him while muttering, "Bloody Brilliant" under his breath.

Once they neared Hermione, she squeezed his arm in support and joined them; walking right beside him as he made his way to the Great Hall. Her very presence was somehow comforting.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Pretend and Attention (Prompts)**

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Once Harry entered the Great Hall, the first person who made it over to him, was the only person he didn't expect to speak to him.

Molly Weasley came forward, a sad smile gracing her otherwise jovial face and with fresh tears streaks across her cheeks. The image made his gut clench. "How are you, Harry dear," she said softly before her arms circled him in a comforting hug.

Harry stayed dumbstruck, falling into her embrace for fear of doing anything else. She had just lost her son, and yet she was comforting _him._ The irony was not lost on him.

When Molly finally pulled back, her expression cleared the confusion he had been experiencing. She looked at him with sadness, sympathy in the depth of her eyes. _Remus_. She was thinking about _his_ loss.

He felt the need to say that he was fine, so to keep her mind at ease. But somehow saying anything felt like the wrong thing. He simply nodded, ducking his head so his glance fell on the other Weasleys who watched their interaction with passive faces. Especially Ginny, who looked at him the way most of the others in the Great Hall were looking at him: with hope and expectation.

Almost immediately, Molly hiccupped, the tears pouring freshly and her shoulders beginning to shake with the effort of holding in her sobs. Harry stared in panic, not knowing what to do. He could feel the relieved breath leave his body when Ron stepped from behind him and grabbed a hold of his mother's arm. "C'mon, Mum," he said gently as he let her sob uncontrollably on his shoulder. Arthur made his way to his wife, his expression sombre as he lightly rubbed soft circles along her back. One by one the other members of their family made their way to their mother, each one trying to comfort her in this time. The only person who stayed where he was, sitting at the table while staring at his hands was George.

Harry couldn't help but swallow at the spectacle before him as Hermione stepped closer. They shared a look; and he knew she felt the same way he did. They felt like intruders.

It was while before he felt her whisper his name, nudging him in his side to get his attention. When he looked up, she cocked her head to the side referring him to the others in the Great Hall who were watching him, not the Weasleys. The attention being given to him was uncomfortable and awkward.

"You'll have to either go to talk to them, or pretend they're not staring."

"I rather pretend this night never happened," Harry mumbled as his glance fell on the Weasleys once more. "Besides," he said dryly, "what am I supposed to say to them?"

"You don't have to say anything."

He understood what she meant.

Handing over his mother to his father, Ron came over to them, his eyes only on Harry. "We're going to the Burrow right about now. Coming?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as him: they might as well. Again, he nodded, feeling like saying anything would be inappropriate.

Ron nodded, throwing a brief look Hermione's way before he joined his family and started gathering them together. Harry couldn't help but notice that George wasn't even aware of his family leaving until Percy put a comforting hand on his back.

As the Wealseys made their way slowly out of the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione followed behind a good distance away. As he passed the other survivors, Harry noticed that most of them would nod in acknowledgement at him. He nodded back, a small gesture to show that he appreciated them and valued what they did to help him last night. It was a long walk to exit that hall; and he kept remembering how that first year when he walked down the Hall that first time, it seemed a relatively shorter walk than now.

He realized on some level that he might not see some of them for some time. It might be months before he sees Neville again, or Dean and Seamus. It might be years before he saw the Patil sisters once more. A goodbye like this deserved a slap on the back and 'see you soon'. But this wasn't the occasion that called for it. And everyone knew that.

In his own way, he said goodbye to everyone who was in the Great Hall, making a mental note to track them down individually and thank them some day. The only people he didn't look at as he stepped out of Hogwarts for the first time since the fall of Voldemort, was the Malfoys. He wasn't ready to accept what they had done... yet.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Something there and Never (Prompts)**

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The last time the Burrow was so quiet was when Arthur Weasley was attacked by Nagini. Funny how everything connects to him in some way or another.

The moment they entered the house, everyone had a place to be. Fleur led Bill into the kitchen, saying that she would make him and the rest of the family something to eat. Charlie and Percy sat to the side, talking in hushed tones while George stood silently looking out of the window. It took a while, but after much persuading, Arthur led his wife upstairs with gentle words. Harry noticed how absolutely exhausted she looked. Her eyes, which were red rimmed from hours of crying seemed sunken into her face.

Harry truly felt like an intruder now.

"Maybe I should go see if Fleur needs any help," Hermione said cautiously, her eyes roaming over everyone sadly.

Harry followed the path of her gaze, his eyes landing on Ginny as she sat beside Ron on the couch, her head resting sadly against his arm. She was probably waiting for him to go to her. "I think," Harry said softly, leaning towards Hermione, "I will stay at Grimmauld Place tonight."

Her expression immediately took on a look of utter panic. "You can't! It's no longer safe."

He shrugged half-heartedly, knowing that he couldn't stay here for the night. "Who's there to look for me now?"

"Hm. Let me think," Hermione snapped sarcastically. "Angry Death Eaters who would want revenge? We don't know who Yaxley showed Grimmauld Place to. You're still not safe."

"I've made up my mind, Hermione."

"Do you have to be so stubborn?" At his absolutely dead-set expression, she sighed. "How about my house? We can put up new wards and even ask Kingsley how to make me a Secret Keeper."

He looked at her pointedly. "We can do the same for Grimmauld Place."

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate before she realized that he may be right. "Fine. Grimmauld Place tonight."

Harry would have basked in the knowledge of winning an argument against his best friend, if it weren't for how she said that last bit. "You're coming with me?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Of course! You didn't think I would let you be alone tonight, did you?" Besides," she said sadly, "it's not like I have any other place to go." When she looked him squarely in the eyes, she smiled softly. "You can never get rid of me, Harry. You can try and try; but after seven years, you're stuck with me."

Harry sent her a small smile back, hating to admit to her openly that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I think I'll go help Fleur," Hermione said, standing up. "She might need some help." Almost of an afterthought she added, "Would you like something to eat?"

He shook his head. "Not really hungry."

"Are you sure? There might be something there that you could eat."

Harry shook his head again. He knew that Hermione worried about him, and he was grateful for it. But he just didn't have the appetite. Briefly he wondered, when he will.

With a small smile of encouragement, Hermione went towards the kitchen. Harry saw how Ron's eyes followed her, silently watching until she exited the living room. Then his gaze met Ginny's and he couldn't help but feel like he had let her down. She wanted him to comfort her; but he just didn't have it in him.

Suddenly feeling the suffocation of the empty space, Harry stood up and made his way to the backyard of the Burrow. He sat down on the rickety steps and looked out into the garden where they have had countless dinners and parties. And Bill and Fleur's wedding which seemed like a lifetime ago. He wondered if the gnomes were sleeping at that moment.

He had been sitting there, thinking of nothing in particular for some time before he felt a presence behind him. Silently, the visitor took one slow step at a time before sitting on a step just above the one he occupied. From the corner of his eye he could make out the long, flaming red hair and he felt his chest practically cave in at the knowledge of who was seated just behind him and why. He knew what she wanted from him. But he just couldn't give it to her. Not yet.

Harry squinted at the setting sun and waited for Ginny to speak. He didn't have to wait long.

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Please feel free to tell me what you think. Since this is an experiment of sorts, it would be great if you could let me know if you think the characters and situations are believable or not. Also, this story follows the questions I had after Deathly Hallows. If you had any questions, feel free to tell me. Who knows? Maybe it'll impact this story.**

**And onward to Chapter 6..;D..**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 - First and Accusation (Prompts)<strong>

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"It's a funny thing, isn't it? Life."

Harry fought the urge to turn back and look at her, her tone of sadness mixed with sarcasm making him curious as to what she was planning to tell him. He could have answered, but the question was too rhetorical for him to be able to give a satisfying answer. Instead, he waited.

"You said you would be coming back. At the end of sixth year," she said softly. "But you didn't, did you?"

Harry stayed painfully still, his confusion rising with every word. Deep down, his compulsion was to disagree with her. He _had_ come back, as was promised. He was alive, after all. He had survived. But he knew that she probably meant something different. Something that only Hermione could probably explain to him by spelling it out emotion by emotion. At times like these he regretted being such a _bloke_, who wasn't privy to the thought processes of the fairer sex.

The silence stretched for so long before Harry had the courage to shift on the steps and cautiously turn to face her. Her voice had been so strong and unwavering, that seeing her with tears in her eyes threw him. She had just lost her brother; this was not the time or place to have this conversation. He honestly didn't know if she wanted him to say something; and if she did want him to speak, he honestly didn't know what to say.

Ginny smiled sadly, the lifted corners of her lips a sharp contrast to the absolute devastation he could see in her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess, Harry."

"You're not," he said quickly, a slight attempt to fixing this awkward situation he was placed in. He wanted to say more, but he was afraid that he might say the wrong thing and make her fail miserably in holding back her tears. He waited a moment longer for Ginny to continue, but when she didn't, he felt the pressure to speak weighing heavily on his shoulders. He had to say something. _Anything_. And it had to be carefully worded as well as sensitive.

Swallowing, as was his habit, Harry tried telling her what was on his mind. "I didn't mean..." He stopped. What was he going to say? That he didn't mean _not_ to come back? That very idea sounded ridiculous when he thought it.

Ginny seemed to see how uncomfortable he was and decided to take pity on him. "I know," she said softly, her eyes kind. No other two words could have made him feel worse.

"What I meant was-"

"I'm not accusing you, Harry," Ginny said sadly. "We were part of a war. It would be naïve to think it wouldn't change things. I just wish I had been there with you. That I hadn't listened to everyone and stayed in Hogwarts instead of joining you, Ron and Hermione." She shrugged lightly. "Maybe things would have been different then."

Harry felt his throat dry up instantly. What was the right thing to say? Why couldn't anything come into his brain?

"Although," Ginny continued softly, her gaze falling to her entwined fingers on her lap, "if I _was_ wishing for anything, that wouldn't be it."

_Fred_. He would always be on her mind; as well as on his, along with his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Colin and even Hedwig. She was right; it's hard to come back from that.

"I'm just sad for everything that has happened. I wish it was all different. And I wish that you and I were different." She let out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching slightly.

Harry still felt the impulse to do something, to comfort her or to say _something_. Finally what came out of his mouth was a weak, "I'm sorry".

Ginny shook her head, denying his apology. "Don't be. It was bound to happen, right?" She smiled at him then, which Harry knew for certain was a facade.

They looked at each other sadly, knowing where they were going from here. This wasn't the time or the place for this conversation; but it _was _a conversation they needed to have. He could appreciate that.

Harry watched as Ginny stood up before she took in a deep breath and turned to face him once more. "You're my first, Harry. And I can't imagine you being anything but my last." She looked at him sadly. "But I can't wait forever for you to come back." And with those parting words which left a heavy rock in Harry's chest, she turned to leave, bumping into Hermione as she came out to call for him.

Hermione glanced back at Ginny's retreating form before she turned to face him. "Everything alright?"

"I... I don't know," Harry mumbled uncertainly. Honestly, he had no idea.

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - Thanks for the reviews. They mean a lot :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 - Forest and Companions (Prompts)<strong>

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Dinner was a silent affair. The only person who ate anything was Bill; and that was just to please his wife. The rest of the family had only one goal in mind: to feed Molly Weasley. But no matter who tried what, she remained stubborn, staying in bed silently with a sad, far off gaze. It almost was like she had given up; and that scared him.

Harry couldn't help but study the faces of all those around him. It was all overwhelming. He wanted to stay close to them; comfort them in any way he can. But he didn't know how. And he couldn't help but feel the need to leave, at least for a bit, to rid the tightening of his chest every time his eyes fell on George.

He had barely made it outside the Burrow when he heard his name being called.

"Where are you going?"

Harry stopped, the feeling of dread enveloping him. It had been an idea. A simple one. Surely he need not tell her. "I'm going for a walk. Needed to get out for a bit," he said confidently, even as he shifted from one foot to the other impatiently.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "A walk? Now?"

"Yeah. Why not now?"

She seemed taken aback by his defensive tone. "And where were you going for this _walk_?"

Harry hated this quality of hers; the one where she could see right through him. Why couldn't she be like everyone else in his life and be blissfully ignorant, believing whatever he decides to tell them?

Hermione squinted at him further, almost like she was reading him. "Harry," she began seriously, "where were you going?"

All Harry could do was stay silent, his jaw twitching in agitation. It was just an idea. That's all.

"What are you two up to?"

They both turned around to see Ron as he stepped outside, confusion marring his already tired features.

Hermione looked at Harry carefully before she said, "I think...Harry's about to leave for the Forbidden Forest."

Harry looked at her incredulously as Ron asked, "Why?"

She hesitated a moment before she said, "To find the Resurrection Stone."

The way she could read him was honestly mental. "How did you-"

"I saw the way you were looking at George. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Do you think it'll work?" Ron asked quietly, his gaze focused solely on Harry.

Hermione looked at him pleadingly, a slight twitch of her head saying exactly what she thought he should say. Or rather, what he should deny.

He hated being put in positions such as these. "It wasn't..." He stopped, unsure of what to say exactly. What was he to say? Tell the person who just lost his brother, _not_ to take the chance to see him again? He just didn't have the heart to say something so cruel. Instead, he looked at Hermione.

Hermione, seeming to understand his look, turned cautiously towards Ron. "It won't work, Ron. Dark Magic like this never turns out the way we want it to. You remember the story."

"Yeah, I remember it," Ron said with feeling. "I also remember that it was a story. Who's to say the second brother had unrealistic expectations?"

"Expecting someone to come back from the dead _is_ unrealistic."

"Not unless you happen to have a Resurrection Stone." Ron looked at him again. "Do you think you might have an idea of where you might have dropped it?"

"I have no idea where I might have dropped it," Harry said quickly trying to diffuse this situation. It had just been a stupid idea. How did it spiral out of control?

"Never mind that," Ron said seriously, surprising Harry and Hermione. "A simple _Accio_ should do the trick." Looking back to make sure that no one was around, Ron started moving towards the Apparition point, stopping only when he noticed his companions weren't moving with him. "Well? You two coming?"

Harry shared a panicked look with Hermione, one that prompted her into action. "I was just telling Harry that going into the Forbidden Forrest at night won't be the best time to find the stone. Right, Harry?"

"Um... Yeah," Harry said clumsily, hoping to get his best friend to forget about this idea. "I don't think I would be able to figure out where I dropped it."

Ron's gaze seemed to travel suspiciously between Harry and Hermione before he let out a tired sigh. "S'pose you're right. First thing tomorrow we'll go look for it."

All Harry could do was nod, before Ron tiredly trudged back into the Burrow. Once his back was turned, his gaze met Hermione's. They were thinking the same thing. Only bad can come out of this.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Ten years and Blessings (Prompts)**

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"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking of telling Ron, that's for sure."

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "Are you blaming me for this?"

Harry didn't even miss a beat before he replied, "A little. Yeah."

"I didn't know he would want to search for the stone for himself."

"He just lost his brother, Hermione. What did you think he would do?"

She stared at him silently, the twitch of her lips showing her reluctant acceptance of what he had told her. "I thought he would know better," Hermione said softly, her tone dipping as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Harry felt his heart go out to her. She hadn't felt true loss the way he and Ron had; and part of him knew that he couldn't expect her to understand all of it. "Death has a way of making the best of us pick the wrong choices."

"Is that why you wanted to find the stone? To see Fred?"

Honestly, he didn't know exactly why he wanted to find the stone. All he knew was that he'd had the impulse to go search for it barely a few moments ago.

"Or were you thinking about seeing your parents?" she asked more gently.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled honestly. Had he thought about it? He had. But was that his main reason for planning to leave the Burrow in the middle of the night to search for a bloody rock buried in a vast area of natural growth? He wasn't entirely sure.

"What are we going to do?" Shaking her head in disbelief, Hermione looked up sadly, almost like a prayer to the heavens. "We can't let him get that stone. It'll destroy him."

He knew she was right. But he couldn't help but have a little more faith in Ron. "Hermione, where do you see yourself in ten years?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What?"

He had a point with this line of questioning. It was just hard to articulate. "Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"Harry, that's just-" She stopped when he looked at her meaningfully. "I don't know," she said helplessly. "I just don't. If you asked me that question before sixth year, I would have had a ten year plan laid out. But not now. Not since we began the Horcrux hunt."

"Neither do I. Neither do Ron, Ginny, George or anyone else who survived the war. But I do know one thing. If Ron feels that he needs to see Fred one more time, we should give him the chance. If we hide it from him, ten years down the line, he'll still look for it. You know how stubborn he can get."

Hermione shook her head in disagreement. "No. It's too risky."

"He just needs a glimpse."

"And where does it stop? There's one Resurrection Stone, Harry, and hundreds who have lost their loved ones. Where does it stop?"

He hated to admit it, but she was right. On the other hand, this was _Ron_ they were talking about. "Don't you trust him?"

The question seemed to unnerve her. "Of course I trust him. I trust him with my life."

That last sentence was extremely specific for him not to notice the implication under it. "But?"

She hesitated a moment before continuing. "But I don't trust him to make the right decision. Not the way I trust you."

He hadn't expected her to say that about him; and it made him extremely uncomfortable to hear it. "I'm not perfect. I've made a lot of wrong choices."

"No you're not perfect; but you walked away from the Mirror of Erised."

He had forgotten about that. "Ron did too."

But Hermione was already shaking her head. "If Ron was the master of the Elder Wand, he would have kept it. He wouldn't have placed it back in the tomb like you did. You know I'm right about this, Harry."

He stayed silent, knowing that she was speaking the truth, but reluctant to admit it out loud.

"We all have our faults. You're emotional to a fault, I'm extremely logical to a fault, and Ron is passionate to a fault." He was about to deny this when she spoke over him. "Don't try denying it, Harry. If I told you today that the only way to save my life was to sacrifice yours, wouldn't you do the very thing I wouldn't want you to do to save my life?"

Harry swallowed self-consciously, the idea of losing Hermione in any way pressing hard into his chest and causing him to feel suffocated by that very thought. He didn't like that feeling. "I would do anything, Hermione, you know that."

She smiled kindly at him. "And therein lies your fault." Straightening her shoulders, she started walking towards the Apparition point.

"Where are you going?"

Hermione continued to move; not even slowing down when Harry joined her. "I'm going to find that stone and I'm going to hide it."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Of course you are. Honestly, Harry Potter, what would you do without me?"

Harry grinned as he matched her stride for stride. "Trust me; I count my blessings every day to make sure I never find out."

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Appearance and Metal (Prompts)**

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"This is mental."

"Most things that we do are mental," Hermione said as she sighed tiredly and waved her wand to shine more light in the darkened forest. "Does this area seem familiar to you?"

Harry shook his head in the negative as he continued to walk through the thick brush of the forest. They had been at this for quite some time. He limbs were starting to ache, and the _lumos_ spell that alit his and Hermione's wands were starting to smart his eyes. Vaguely he recalled that he hadn't rested for over two days. He was close to collapsing then and there in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione stopped in another new clearing and turned to face him. "Try again."

With a despondent sigh, Harry lifted his wand for what felt like the thirtieth time. "_Accio_ Resurrection Stone." Almost immediately, a whooshing sound accompanied by a black, flying rock that came rushing towards him. Harry caught it easily in the dim light, thanks to his Seeker reflexes.

"Finally," Hermione sighed happily as she made her way closer to him. "I was close to giving up."

Harry held the stone in his hand, the need to turn the object three times overwhelming him. He could see them again, if he wanted to. His mother, father, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore. He could see them all. Wasn't that a nice thought?

"You can't, Harry," Hermione said gently, her tone betraying the fact that she knew what he was thinking.

Harry pressed his fingers against the stone, almost in an effort to stop himself from flipping it. "I know."

Hermione watched him for a bit, before she started moving about the clearing in search for a proper place to hide it. She finally stopped near a large tree, kneeling down between the roots. "I think we should hide it here."

Harry followed her and got on his knees right next to her, still reluctant to hand over the stone. The last time he dropped it, it had been on a whim; a moments decision based on the fact that he didn't want Voldemort to get the stone. But now Voldemort was gone, and he had rolled the stone twice within the palm of his hand.

With gentle fingers, Hermione took the stone from him. Surprisingly, he didn't fight her. "I'm sorry, Harry. But you know that if you saw them, you wouldn't want them to leave."

Harry stared at the stone as it was covered by delicate fingers. Hermione smiled sadly at him, which only made the impulse to state how wrong she was that much stronger. Only he knew that she wasn't wrong; the thought of which annoyed him. Did she always have to be so bloody right all the time?

"Do you have the Snitch with you?"

The question surprised him, even as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the golden ball. "Yeah. What do you need it for?"

"You saw how easy it is to get this stone. We need something to hinder the _Accio_ spell. And what's better than metal? The stone won't be able to escape if it's completely encased in an object that no one knows it's encased in."

The logic behind her statement made sense, but Harry couldn't fight the feeling of unfairness that was building within him. He gave up the stone; did he have to give up the one thing Dumbledore left him? The one thing that had kept his sanity in check during all those months sleeping in a tent?"

"I understand if you don't want to."

"No. It's fine." There was no real reason to hold on to it; his mind knew that. But that didn't mean that it was difficult to part with.

"I just feel that it's fitting. Dumbledore obviously intended the stone to be hidden by the first snitch you ever caught. I think it's...poetic."

Hearing his mentor's name being mentioned wasn't easy. Especially since he knew that the Snitch had completed its duty. Reluctantly, Harry handed her the Snitch. "You always know what to say."

"I always know what to say to _you,_" Hermione re-iterated as she took the Snitch from him. "Oh, um... you should..."

"Right." Taking the Snitch back, he placed it against his lips and whispered the words that opened the metal ball a day ago. How true those words were then, and how false, now. Just as the Snitch opened, Hermione took it from him and placed the stone inside. Closing the Snitch, she pointed her wand at it. "What are you doing?"

The Snitch morphed into an ordinary rock, one that matched the countless others that littered the forest clearing. "I'm changing its appearance. A Snitch lying around would only attract attention. This way, we can ensure that no one would see it." Taking the now transfigured Snitch, Hermione then buried it under a large root of the tree they were currently under. "A few protective charms, and we're good to go," she mumbled before she started spouting out a litany of spells that Harry had only vaguely heard of.

Once their jobs were completed, they stood up.

"Let's just hope that Ron doesn't find this tomorrow, shall we?"

Harry simply nodded as he took Hermione's hand in his and prepared to Apparate them back to the Burrow. He had already studied the surroundings where the Snitch was buried. _Just in case_, he told himself.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - Song Lyrics and Eyes (Prompts)**

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The moment they Apparated back to the Burrow, Harry and Hermione stayed close, hands clasped as they looked unto the building that was usually filled with laughter. Harry dreaded going back inside, and he knew from the way she held his hand, that Hermione was feeling the same thing.

"Can you believe it's been over a year since we were students at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked softly, her tone contemplative. "Over a year since we have gone to the library, hung out at the common room, attended classes, gone for Quidditch matches. Feels like a lifetime, doesn't it?"

Harry squeezed her hand lightly in agreement, only to get a light caress in return when her thumb stroked the rough skin of his hand gently. He chose to ignore the light shiver that traced up his spine, blaming the chilly weather and the fact that he didn't wear adequate clothing to keep himself warm.

"I feel too old."

He couldn't help but let a smirk grace his face. "You're nineteen." Sometimes, he just didn't get her balmy logic.

"Exactly," she said seriously. "Already I was a year older than everyone else in my year. Imagine me doing my N.E.W.T Exams two years older than everyone. It's a horrid thought."

He looked at her in question. "You're going back?"

"Of course," she said confidently, without even a smidgen of doubt. "Aren't you?"

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, hesitantly. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You should. Even with your impressive résumé of killing a Dark Lord who intended to be a cruel dictator; that could only take you so far without a good education."

"Are you seriously trying to sell me the idea of going back to Hogwarts by downplaying what I did last night?"

She smiled brilliantly at him. "I'm simply saying that doing one more year wouldn't hurt."

"You think I'll have trouble finding a job?" he asked cheekily which only earned him a light slap on his shoulder. Harry winced for good measure.

"Honestly! Just because you're the 'saviour of the wizarding world' will not guarantee you a free pass for the rest of your life. And..." she continued quickly before he could say anything else, "I don't care if you _do _get a free pass and people actually get on their knees and beg you to come work for them. You need to complete your education, Harry."

"I have a feeling that we'll have to agree to disagree on that," he said smugly, mostly to irritate her.

Hermione huffed at his stubbornness, which only served to amuse him to no end. "Well, I won't rest until I convince you of the benefits of finishing your studies."

Harry smiled good-naturedly. "I thought you would."

"Come on," Hermione said amidst her own smile as she led him closer to the Burrow.

Harry stopped her. "Wait. What if Ron asks where we've been?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully, before letting out a tired sigh. "We'll just...say we went for a walk."

His eyes immediately fell onto their entwined fingers. "Then I guess we shouldn't walk back like this."

Hermione scoffed, her fingers tightening around his. "Don't be silly. It's fine."

He looked at her sceptically. It really wasn't. "If Ron sees-"

"He won't." She seemed so sure of herself. "Besides, remember what the Sorting Hat said in sixth year? About all of us sticking together?"

"I missed those song lyrics, funny enough," Harry mumbled dryly, the memory of Draco kicking him in the face burned brightly into his brain.

Hermione smiled sadly at him. "But what it said was true, wasn't it? We overcame Voldemort. And we did it, because we all did it together. Ron knows this."

He shook his head. She was wrong. She didn't see his face when he tried to destroy the Horcrux. She didn't see the lack of trust in his best mate's eyes every time he saw them together.

"Look, Ron is a big boy." She stepped before him and lifted his face gently so she could look him directly in his eyes. "He knows there's nothing between us."

Harry looked back, unusually aware of how close they were. He heard the words, understood them, but he couldn't help but feel that they were wrong. How could she look at him like he was the most important person in her life, treat him like she couldn't bear to be out of his sight, then tell him that Ron, or anyone else for that matter, didn't see how much they cared for each other?

Harry was briefly aware of how her fingers lightly caressed the stubble on his chin as she continued to look at him intensely. He was also very much aware that he had taken a step closer to her, and that his hand was squeezing hers so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. And he couldn't help but notice when her eyes fell to his lips for a brief second before she let out a shaky breath and stepped away from him, her hand falling to her side.

He would have concentrated on all those little things, if it weren't for the sound of a twig being snapped that caused them both to look up and let each other go. All they saw was Ron's retreating back as he made his way back to the Burrow.

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	11. Chapter 11

**A/N - Sorry for the day late in the update. I was sick and this completely slipped my mind. Anyways, onward with Chapter 11.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 - Writer's Choice and Shadow<strong>

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"Where were you?" It was a simple question which was snarled in distain. Harry couldn't help but close his eyes and picture Hermione, with her curly hair in loose tendrils around her face, her eyes desperate and pleading.

"We went for a walk." Hermione's tone was clear, confident, but shook just a bit to the end.

"A _walk_? Just the two of you? You go for some bloody long walks, don't you?"

Harry let out a low breath and lightly hit his head against the wall he was currently leaning against. They had been at it, the two of them, for quite some time. He was pretty sure that everyone else had placed a silencing charm except for him. He wanted to hear this.

"What me and Harry do is none of your business, Ronald."

"Of course not. What you two want to bloody well do is always your bloody business. But don't forget Hermione, _you_ kissed _me. _Now to go after Harry while he's with Ginny-"

"They broke up." Her voice was a whisper, but Harry could hear it as he strained against the wall that divided his room from Ron's.

There was a moment of silence before he heard Ron's voice again. "What is it then? You two an item now?" The words were spoken with so much disgust that Harry couldn't help but feel ashamed. The thought had briefly crossed his mind several times. He could imagine how simple life would be with Hermione by his side. She was his best friend after all, she could easily be so much more. But he never dwelled on that idea. He couldn't; not when he could see the way Ron looked at her or the way she would ignore his idiotic best mate whenever he showed interest in other girls. It was about time before they got together; and Harry - knowing this, wasn't going to stop it.

"There's nothing between me and Harry. How many times do you want me to say it?"

"As often as it takes. If there really is nothing, why is it that every time my back is turned you two go sneaking off somewhere?"

"Just listen to yourself! Do you have any idea what you're saying? I care deeply for Harry, he's my friend. Are you asking me to give that up?"

Ron mumbled something that Harry couldn't hear then. Briefly he wondered if there were any Extendable Ears he could use, only for his thoughts to stop short on one of the inventors of that product.

"What?" He heard Hermione ask, her tone confused.

"I said, I reckon you're bloody good friends."

There was silence then, and Harry could almost hear Hermione letting out a low breath in frustration. "What do you want me to do? Stop being Harry's friend? He has no one, Ron. Have a little compassion."

_He has no one_.

He had stopped thinking like that sometime back, falling into old habits of placing the people around him in a familial way. The Order had become his family; the Weasleys even more so. He had surrounded himself with people he trusts, people he considered his friends. And he had lost some of them because of the war they fought together.

There was another moment of silence before Ron spoke again, grudgingly. "No, of course not. You know he's like my brother."

"Then let me look after him. The one thing I'm really good at besides books and exams is looking after Harry."

Ron was silent for a while before he said, "Right. You're right. Sorry. I'm a bit on edge, I guess. From last night."

"Of course," Hermione said kindly. "I understand."

Harry could almost picture Ron's half smile and Hermione falling into a comfortable embrace with him. The thought clenched his gut tight. Deciding that he didn't want to hear any more, he pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm around the room the Weasleys had given him to sleep in that night.

Maybe he was meant to be alone. Even though he had thought that things would change after Voldemort had fallen, they hadn't changed for him. Not really. Maybe he was meant to stay in the shadows and watch everyone else move on in life without him.

And maybe he should make his peace with that.

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - Just a quick notice, if you will. First of all, thank you to all those who review, since it's absolutely fascinating to know what you think and how you interpret what's happening. And this way, I realize if I missed anything, or if I've made a mistake in how I portray something. **

**Secondly, I know that a lot of you are waiting for some H/Hr action, but I can't promise when that will be. Partly because I get a new prompt a day, and I don't know what I'm writing until I write it, and partly because this is an angst/romance fic, so I don't want to just throw them together. I want it to make sense. Not to mention there are 100 chapters. Imagine how boring it would be if they got together too soon ;) And technically, all 12 of these chapters depict one day, so it's not really that slow moving. **

**And finally, 12 down and 88 more to go. By George, I think we're putting a dent in this thing ;P - Thanks again guys.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 - Alone and History (Prompts)<strong>

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It had been a while since the whole of the Burrow had been put into darkness and everyone had given into their tiredness and finally fallen asleep. And yet, Harry stayed where he was, sitting on the floor of Percy's former bedroom staring out of the window and in to the moonlit night.

It had been a while since he had felt this way; felt so _alone_. How he wished Hedwig was sleeping in her cage right beside him.

He was tired, hungry and his eyes could barely be kept open. But he couldn't sleep. Not yet. Everything that had happened was burned into his brain. All the blood, the violence and the curses flying past him. The look on people's faces when they saw their loved ones die; the look of the cold, expressionless faces that were to be buried soon.

He was also loathed to change. He still had countless cuts and bruises under his clothing that hadn't been healed. He knew the moment he peeled off the grime and the muck of his clothing, his skin would burn. He had no interest in hurrying the pain. He'd rather sit where he was and think. He felt he owed all those who fell at least that much.

It was while his eyes drooped tiredly, his head lolling to the side slightly that he heard a light knock on the door that startled him.

Hermione walked in cautiously, already washed and ready for bed. The moment she saw him, she looked at him in sympathy. "Oh, Harry."

Her tone wasn't something he wanted to hear at two in the morning. Holding onto the wall, he staggered to his feet. "I was just about to go to bed." He would say anything at this point for her to believe him.

"No you weren't." He could hear the underline frustration in her voice. "Why haven't you changed yet? You would feel so much better after a wash."

"I was about to. Wash I mean."

Her gaze dissected him quietly, which only succeeded in making him feel even more self-conscious.

In an effort to move the attention off of him, he gestured towards her. "What are you doing here?"

It must have been a trick of the light, but Harry could swear she blushed lightly. "I...er... I was wondering if I could sleep here tonight."

Harry's heart immediately stopped beating.

"Ginny's sleeping with everyone else in Arthur's and Molly's room, and after months of living in a tent with you and Ron...I can't seem to go to sleep without having someone with me," she said quickly, her tone embarrassed. When Harry simply stared at her, she sputtered, "Only if you're okay with it, of course. I have my sleeping bag. I was just thinking about sleeping on the floor."

"No. I mean, yeah. I mean, you can. Sleep here," Harry stammered, feeling like a right idiot. "You should take the bed."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. You need it more than I do. But," she said with a little laugh, "I refuse to sleep here until you take a wash and get rid of those awful clothes."

Harry would have laughed if it weren't for the idea of the pain he would ultimately have to endure. He felt like his body couldn't take it right now. He was just too drained.

Hermione, immediately sensing his demeanour, asked softly, "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded before grabbing his bag. "I'm fine. I'll go have a wash then." With a quick duck of his head, he exited the room. Maybe that's what he needed, some warm water to wash the grime as well as anything else away.

The moment he closed the door behind him, Harry staggered, feeling suddenly weak. He needed to eat something. Leaning his back against the sink, he painstakingly began peeling off his clothing. As expected, his skin prickled with burns. He gritted his teeth to hold the grunt of pain from escaping. After a few moments, he stopped, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as he took a small breather.

The knock on the door stopped him cold.

"Harry! I forgot to take something! Could I just come in for a second?"

Panicked, Harry pulled the t-shirt back over his head, wincing when his raw skin touched the material. "Yeah. Sure." He quickly pulled opened the door, hoping to get this over with quickly. What he didn't expect was for Hermione's eyes to widen as she let out a soft gasp. Out of habit, Harry glanced at the mirror and noticed the mistake he had made.

Honestly, it's almost as if history has taught him nothing.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 - First Person and Talent (Prompts)**

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Harry watched her as she silently went about dressing the wounds across his body.

After their ill-fated run-in in the bathroom, she had stated in no uncertain terms that he was to toss the clothes he was wearing, wash, and come downstairs after. He decided to follow through with her orders for fear of getting yelled at. Once he came down, he found an assortment of Muggle spirits that Arthur had hoarded, stocked well with bandages. Hermione immediately set about cleaning his wounds; her fingers gentle, but her lips pursed in a stubborn way that he knew from past experiences, that she was unhappy with him.

There was a limit of silence he could endure.

"You're mad."

"Yes," she said curtly, her eyes narrowed in concentration at the deep gash on his shoulder. At that moment, she pressed unusually hard which caused him to wince from the pain. "Sorry," she mumbled, her tone sounding a bit more sympathetic than what he thought she currently was. She briefly looked at him before turning her attention back to his injured shoulder.

They stayed silent for a few more minutes, Hermione occasionally huffing out low, frustrated breaths every time she moved onto a new wound or saw another bruise. It was obvious that she wanted to chastise him for neglecting himself, but he hoped that she wouldn't. Even though he knew that she was not the type to stay silent for long.

"I don't understand you, Harry," she muttered more to herself as she started working on a nasty cut across his forearm. "There were Healers after the battle. We were _all_ looked after." She looked at him in confusion. "Where were you?"

He honestly didn't know. He saw the aftermath and felt the need to leave. He didn't really think about the consequences.

Sighing, probably in frustration at his silence, Hermione gently rolled the last bit of the bandage over the exposed wound on his forearm. "You've been without any medical care for over a day. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

He had a feeling that she was going to tell him.

"If these had been normal cuts you would have still been able to develop so many Muggle conditions. As it is, these could also be magical. And it's not like I can heal you with _that_," she said disdainfully as she nodded at Bellatrix's wand which sat innocently on the table. "And it's not like Molly, who I'm convinced is as good as any Healer, could do it. Or Arthur. No one in this house is in the right mind-set to perform such magic." Sadly, she looked at him. "You shouldn't have waited so long." She turned away from him and started placing the medication back where she found it, her shoulders hunched in a way that made him think that she had given up on him.

Harry knew that she was right; which was why part of him cursed the fact that he answered the door without his jacket that hid all his visible injuries, and another part of him cursed the fact that he hadn't stayed in the Great Hall to be healed just like the rest, instead opting to take a walk and ultimately watch the sunrise.

Almost without thinking he asked her, "Why do you look after me, Hermione?"

Hermione stiffened before she turned to face him cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...Do you think I'm incapable of looking after myself? Do you feel sorry for me?" He hadn't meant to ask those questions. Not really. It just burst out of him.

"Harry, that's ridiculous." She shook her head, a half laugh leaving her lips.

"Okay then," he said seriously, very much aware that she didn't answer his question. "Why?"

She stared at him incredulously. "I don't know what you want me to say."

That wasn't a good enough answer for him, even if that could be considered an answer. Ducking his head so he need not look at her, he grabbed his shirt from the back of his chair and started putting it on, wincing when he moved his raw muscles.

Hermione immediately spoke, her tone laced with panic. "I don't know why I look after you, Harry. Maybe you were the first person I looked after or maybe it's because you have a talent of getting into trouble. I just don't know."

"I don't go searching for trouble, Hermione. Trouble-"

"Usually finds you. I know," she finished gently. "At least eat something before you go to sleep."

Harry hesitated, not really feeling the appetite that was causing his stomach to growl several minutes ago.

"I'll eat with you."

He couldn't help but notice that she hadn't eaten either. At least with him, he could be sure that she ate something as well. Reluctantly, he nodded before taking a seat at the empty table. And with a small smile, Hermione went about re-heating the dinner she and Fleur had made.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Warning : At the end of this chapter you will read something that you will know is grossly against the canon character of Hermione as created by JKR. I ask that you have patience for the next chapter since everything will be explained then. I haven't gone away from canon, so have faith (pun intended ;P) that I won't. There is a reason for it (besides the need to mention one of my prompts) :D  
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><p><strong>Chapter 14 - Everybody lies and Heaven (Prompts)<strong>

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The kitchen was silent as they ate, the only sound being the light scratching of cutlery on their respective dishes. Occasionally, he would see Hermione looking at him before she would look back down to her own food. After a bit of silence, she finally spoke.

"Why did you ask me that?"

He looked up briefly before giving his food the utmost attention. "Ask you what?"

She hesitated. "Why I look after you?" she asked cautiously.

Harry shrugged lightly, keeping his gaze from hers. "Dunno."

"It's just that..." She shifted in her seat, her fork piercing the piece of chicken lightly. "It seems like you're the second person tonight to question my motives."

Harry looked up at her cautiously. "Who was the first?"

Maybe it was the way he looked at her, or maybe it was the fact that she could still read him like an open book, but her expression immediately changed. "Were you listening?"

Harry felt himself twitch uncomfortably. He could never understand how she could pick things up from him compared to anyone else. He chose not to answer, not really feeling in the mood to lie. Partly because he was just too tired to keep his story straight, and partly because on some level, he wanted her to know that he had been listening, and he wanted to hear what she had to say about that.

At his silence, Hermione looked at him unbelievably. "Aren't you too old to be spying?" she asked, her tone accusing him.

Harry placed down his knife and fork, knowing that the conversation they were currently getting into wasn't going to be a pleasant one. "Not really." He knew that denying it wouldn't get him anywhere, but the truth would get him answers where Hermione was concerned. She had a passionate dislike towards all who lied to her, and Harry had always tried to be honest with her. _Always._

She shook her head in disbelief as she poked the piece of chicken on her plate somewhat harshly. Harry couldn't help but eye the piece of meat warily. At least he could be sure that she was definitely not pleased with him.

"I didn't mean to," he began sincerely, hoping to appease her anger. "But the two of you were talking about me. How am I to ignore that?"

She still kept her gaze focused on her plate, her expression becoming thoughtful. "What did you hear?" she asked so softly that he barely could make out the words.

This was another opportunity that he had to lie, but didn't. "Everything."

She stiffened. "Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled, aware of the gravity of what he just said. "Oh."

At his semi-sarcastic tone, she finally looked up. "I don't think Ron meant what he said. He's just upset."

That was true, but that didn't mean that Ron was off the mark when it came to what he had noticed. "You're saying he's wrong then?" he asked softly, with baited breath.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly and he could just make out the fact that she had stopped breathing. "I..." She shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "I'm tired," she suddenly spurted out cheerfully. "That's what I feel. And so are you." Immediately, she stood up. "We should really go to sleep now."

He watched her as she cleared everything up, keeping her head low and her gaze away from him. He felt this undeniable urge to ask her that question again. But the truth was, he was afraid of the answer, no matter what the answer was. He wasn't looking forward to either option, which made him take the coward's way out and simply nod his assent.

Hermione didn't wait for him as she cleaned up and left quickly, proof that she wanted to be away from him as soon as possible. With a tired sigh, Harry washed up his own dish and prepared to leave the Weasleys kitchen, only to stop when a string of beads caught his eye. Curious, he made his way to that beaded bag that Hermione had forgotten to take with her, immediately reaching for the rosary that was peeking out.

Harry frowned at the religious item, confused by its appearance. How is it that he knew the most minute things about his best friend, but he didn't know that she had been praying to the heavens? Clutching the beads in one hand and the purse in the other, he made his way back up the stairs to Ginny's room - where he knew she would be. He had every intention of just dropping off the items then making his way back to Percy's room; but if in the process of him doing this, he could somehow get her to talk, that would most definitely be a perk.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 - Jealousy and Green (Prompts)**

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Harry sighed before he knocked on Ginny's bedroom door. He really didn't want to enter that room more than anybody else's, save for Fred's. But he felt the need to see Hermione and to talk to her. And her purse was the perfect excuse he had.

Cautiously, Hermione opened the door, her expression one of guarded expectation.

"You left these downstairs," Harry stated as he handed over the beaded purse followed by the rosary.

When Hermione took the rosary from him, a small smile touched her lips almost as if she remembered a distant memory. "Thank you."

Harry stayed awkwardly, wondering if she was going to say anything about what he found or even chastise him for going through that beaded bag of hers. Although, Harry had a good excuse lined up just in case.

Hermione looked at him, probably able to guess what he was thinking. "It was my mother's," she said wistfully, answering his unasked question. She turned her back towards him and went back into Ginny's room, taking a seat on the bed.

Harry took that as an invitation to enter. "Your mother's?"

Hermione nodded, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the green beads. "She always tried to put the fear of God in me."

"And how did that work out?"

She shrugged. "I was too busy learning spells, fighting trolls and finding Sorcerer's Stones," she said with a humorous glint in her eye. "Although, I was always jealous of her blind faith." She shifted a bit on the bed; another silent invitation that Harry accepted without hesitation.

"Did she take it well?" Harry asked as he sat down beside her. He found it curious how she knew so much about his life, but he knew so little of hers. It was almost as if the threat of Voldemort kept the attention on him for seven years and the knowledge he could have had regarding his best friend was one of the many sacrifices.

"Actually, she took it brilliantly." Sighing, Hermione placed the rosary carefully on the bedside table before she turned to face him, pulling her legs under her so she could sit cross legged on the bed. "When I left, I had to take everything that could possibly remind my parents of me."

"I thought you destroyed everything you didn't bring to the Burrow."

"I did. But I couldn't destroy that. It was a way for me to remember her, I guess."

Sitting up straighter, Harry turned towards her. "Aren't you going to Australia soon?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Why would I do that?"

"To get your parents back." What other reason was there?

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's not safe yet."

"Hermione, we just defeated the greatest Dark Wizard a day ago. I think it's safe."

Hermione looked at him sadly. "The Death Eaters are a group of individuals, Harry. As much as I would love to think that by cutting off the head of the monster it will die, the reality is that we just created an empty space. One that someone else could easily fill."

She had a point. But on the other hand, there was no one who showed the same inclinations as Voldemort. All Death Eaters were followers, not necessarily leaders. They had family who were probably being questioned by the new Ministry for Magic. Many of the key Death Eaters were either killed or imprisoned after last night. "You think someone will take over from Voldemort?" The thought was both laughable and terrifying.

She shrugged delicately. "I don't know. But I _do _know that I don't want to bring my parents back while aftershocks are still possible. It's not safe yet for Muggles." Harry was just about to disagree when she spoke over him. "We managed to eradicate the leader of the movement, but not necessarily the movement itself. I think we should be cautious, not just celebrate."

Sighing, Harry looked at her tiredly. "So you're saying it's not over?" Honestly, that's not exactly something he wanted to hear. And the thought was even more annoying because he believed what she was saying.

"What I'm saying is," Hermione began slowly, "that we should be careful. Voldemort was gathering an army; he had powerful wizards who believed in his cause. If he had chosen a successor-"

"He wouldn't have." And of this, Harry was sure. "He was too proud. He wanted the power for himself, not for his cause."

She simply shrugged. "But that doesn't mean that angry Death Eaters won't be out for vengeance."

Harry let out a low breath. "That thought should help me sleep at night."

Hermione let out a small laugh. "Sorry. I don't really mean to be so cynical."

"You're just extremely logical," Harry said with a smirk as he stood up. "It's four in the morning. We should really get to bed."

Hermione nodded, her slight smile making him feel infinitely happier that he came to speak to her. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry just nodded before he stepped out and closed the door behind him, careful to avoid any statement of goodbye. He had no intention of letting her sleep alone, after all.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 - Mercy and Taste**

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Just like most ideas that come into his mind, Harry impulsively went back into Ginny's room. He only bothered with knocking lightly before he threw opened the door and made his way over to Hermione. He knew from the months they spent hauled up in a tent together that she couldn't go to sleep without reading first. And that was exactly how he found her; sitting in bed with a book on her raised knees, reading under a powerful candle light.

"Harry...what..." She eyed him in confusion, which only served to make him that much positive that he was doing the right thing.

Making his way over to her, he grabbed her book and shut it before placing it on the bedside table.

"What are you...?"

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon."

She did as he asked, her forehead marred in a confused frown. "Harry, what's going on?" He stayed silent, leading her through the small corridors of the Burrow easily since she followed him willingly. "Where are we going?" Her confusion seemed to increase when they arrived at his intended destination: Percy's old bedroom. Hermione followed him in without question, looking around carefully as if the surroundings could give her an answer that would explain his peculiar behaviour.

Letting her hand go, he made his way to a pile of bed sheets and picked one up. "Here." He tossed it to her, and she caught it easily; her confusion visibly increasing minute by minute.

"I don't..."

He picked up another sheet and went to work. "_We_ are building a fort."

Hermione let out a small laugh at his joke before her grin fell as she realized that he was in fact serious. _"What?"_

Harry decided to ignore her confusion and instead give her orders. "Why don't you take care of that side and I'll take of this side. We can use sticking charms to make it hang from the walls."

Hermione stayed stock still as she watched him incredulously, a nervous laugh escaping her. "Harry, this is ridiculous. Why on earth are we building a fort?"

Harry simply kept his head down and started charming the sheets to the walls in a fort-like fashion. "I remember you telling me that you used to build forts when you were a kid."

She laughed. "I was five."

"And I also remember you telling me that the day before you left for Hogwarts-"

"My father built me a fort in the living room," she said softly, surprise evident in her tone. "He wanted me to feel safe and not be scared with what was to come," she finished thoughtfully.

When Harry looked up from his work, he found her looking at him in a way he knew well. She was about to hug him and probably cry in happiness while calling him an idiot in the process. Surprisingly, she didn't. Instead she whispered a soft 'thank you' and quietly went to work on her side. He watched her silently, unsure of how he felt with this blatant change in character. She was usually so expressive with him. Surely that much hadn't changed in a few hours. But then he remembered their ill-fated conversation in the kitchen, and thought that maybe things had shifted between them. He just couldn't pin point where.

It took virtually a few minutes for a fort to materialize, even with the faulty magic Bellatrix's wand cast.

Grandly, he bent down and gestured for her to enter the absolutely horrific looking fort. With a giggle, she complied.

"This is ridiculous."

He joined her after a cheeky grin in place as he stated in a matter of fact tone, "If I was a Muggle, I would have been a brilliant architect."

She practically snorted in laughter. "You're joking. Even with your intentions this fort is..." Her face scrunched up with the failing battle of keeping her laughter at bay.

Harry decided to help her out. "Gorgeous?" he asked her seriously. She couldn't hold it in then, she giggled. "Alright, maybe not gorgeous. But unique. So unique in fact that travellers from all around the world would travel amazing distances and fight mythical creatures just to catch a small glimpse of this fort," he finished grandly, his chest puffing out in pride. His monologue only served to make her laugh harder.

"Oh please Mr Potter," Hermione wheezed in between laughing breaths, "please take mercy on all of human kind and promise _never_ to become an architect."

Harry simply narrowed his eyes at her. "I see what it is. You're jealous!"

Hermione laughed even louder at the ridiculous statement. "_Jealous?" _

Harry nodded. "Look at the impeccable way this arch is formed?"

"It's supposed to be higher."

"Regardless," he said ignoring her laughter. "It's a beauty, I tell you." He grinned then, perfectly loving the image of Hermione holding her stomach from laughing so hard. He couldn't help but feel he did a job well done. It was almost as if she could finally taste happiness.

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	17. Chapter 17

**A/N - rosieposie and elementONE - Here you go! I had actually written this chapter before I posted Chapter 16 on this site. And your question is answered! :)**

**Also, I will be taking a few days hiatus. So no daily updates for a few days until I finish my assignment.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Less than Always and Sunset (Prompts)<br>**

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When Harry finally stirred awake, it was only to blink haphazardly before he moved his free arm along in search of his glasses; which was no easy task considering he didn't want to wake the person beside him who was sleeping on his other arm that was feeling quite numb at the moment. Finally placing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, he looked down. Hermione was comfortably snuggled against him; one arm against her chest and the other around his waist. He was pretty sure that they'd never slept so close before.

They had actually enjoyed themselves a few hours before; exchanging stories and remembering moments that were definitely laugh worthy. They did, however, stay away from topics ranging from the war, the Weasleys and anything else that could dampen the fragile moment of happiness they had been sharing; focusing instead on miss-spelled charms, brilliantly executed hexes and famous instances that Hermione had read but Harry couldn't help but groan out their uselessness.

It took a while, but they finally ended up falling asleep close to each other. _Too close_, Harry thought later as he blinked himself awake. He had never intended to fall asleep holding onto her, but he found himself unable to regret it just the same. And it became even more of an awkward situation when she slowly awoke and Harry had to quickly avert his gaze for fear that she might think he had been staring at her. Which he hadn't been. Obviously.

Although, he had to admit that she really shouldn't have looked at him the way she did, the moment she opened her eyes and saw him.

Harry stayed stock still, his breathing slowing to such an unimaginable pace that it was almost as if he was afraid to let out a breath for fear of startling her. He didn't know what he wanted, or what he expected. But he did know that he was afraid of what the change would bring.

Maybe he had been looking at her intensely; but within the next few seconds, Hermione dropped her gaze from his. He finally let out the breath he had no idea he was holding, expecting her to get up and start the day. Instead, he felt her hand lightly touch his shoulder. "Does it hurt?" She briefly looked up at him before dropping her gaze again, her fingers starting a slow, imaginary trail across his t-shirt covered injuries.

The truth was that his muscles ached. Sleeping rejuvenated his mind, but made him privy to every cut and bruise that had been dormant for several hours; loss of movement was definitely not injury friendly. But instead of saying all these things, he simply shook his head, not feeling up to speaking just yet.

Hermione's fingers travelled lightly from the scar on his chest, up the column of his neck, to the light stubble at the bottom of his chin that he hadn't felt the need to shave the night before. She watched the path of her fingers curiously as she gently touched him in ways that caused his skin to prickle. And he watched her with baited breath, unsure of what to expect.

Her lips quirked slightly upward as she ran the back of her fingers gently down his cheek. "You need to shave, Harry."

When she looked up, her eyes meeting his, her smile fell instantly, her fingers stopping mid-caress. He knew he wasn't smiling. He couldn't. He was too busy just looking at her, his mind circling in panic with only one awe consuming thought: she was so close. Just _so_ close. He could easily bend over and-

"Harry," she whispered softly, her voice strangled.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers; which meant that unfortunately for him, his eyes were in fact focusing solely on her lips and she _knew_ it. She could probably see the panic in his eyes, just as he could surely see the fear in hers.

Almost as if he had burned her, she pulled her hands away from him and sat up quickly, her fingers shakily pushing her loose curls behind her ear. Harry sat up slowly, unsure of what to do or say to right this awkward situation.

"We better go down and prepare breakfast," Hermione mumbled breathlessly, her gaze focusing on everything in the room except for him as she shifted uncomfortably. "We also have to try to convince Ron to forget about the Resurrection Stone, take you to St. Mungo's and visit Kingsley about Grimmauld Place." She took a deep breath at the end of her rant and let out a small sigh. "Merlin, there's so much to do."

She stood up then, hardly looking at him before she said quickly, "Thank you for last night, Harry." And before he could say anything more, she was gone.

Harry stared at the opened door for a few seconds before he fell back with a disappointed groan, wincing immediately when his sore muscles hurt from the gentle impact. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He was never the type of bloke to have the weird imagery of a happy ending complete with skipping off into the sunset; his life had been too cynical for that. But just _once_, it would be nice to have something simple in his life. Something that shouldn't be so difficult to wrap his head around, and not have such dire consequences which could cause him to lose the only family he had.

He really had to get a grip on himself before he lost his best friends.

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	18. Chapter 18

**A/N - I'm back! And hoping to continue with daily updates :) Did you see the new DH part 2 trailer? So sad this is finally coming to an end. I think it's finally hitting me now.. :( **

**And on with the next chapter...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18 - Run and Laugh (Prompts)<strong>

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The day started out just as Harry thought it would.

Hermione avoided him every chance she had; choosing to duck her head and concentrate on the most mundane things just so she need not look him in the eyes. Ginny would get up and leave whatever room he entered. And Fleur tried to feed him; which turned out to be a useless endeavor since the last time he ate anything was a few hours before and he found himself too distracted to be able to swallow successfully.

He had never felt so alone among three women whose personalities made him feel so out of sorts at that moment. He finally sighed in relief when Ron descended the stairs, only to be confused at the blank look he gave him.

The atmosphere was weird, awkward; and Harry felt the undeniable urge to leave. He had just made up his mind to run back up to Percy's old room and pack up his things when Ron finally made his way over to him. And Harry couldn't help but notice that he did so grudgingly.

"Was thinking of leaving for the Forbidden Forrest in a few minutes. Coming?"

Harry immediately looked over at Hermione, who seemed completely enthralled in the book she was reading. He didn't know how to handle a situation like this. Should he agree? Should he make up an excuse and postpone this? Or should he try to talk his best mate out of this? The last option felt like the wrong option since Ron knew that Harry had turned the stone three times before he faced Voldemort, and he would seem like the worst type of hypocrite if he refused to help him with this one thing Ron was asking him to do. "I..." He looked at Hermione again. Surely, she would turn to them and say something that would make Ron stop and think.

Ron followed Harry's gaze, his jaw tightening slightly before he asked curtly, "Well?"

Taken aback, Harry nodded, aware that Ron and all the Weasleys were in a delicate situation at the moment, and he shouldn't say anything that they could take the other way. Ron nodded back, a silent agreement between friends. And it was when Ron was about to leave the living room, did Hermione finally speak.

"We have to take Harry to St. Mungo's first."

Harry and Ron both looked at her in surprise for two completely different reasons.

"St. Mungo's?" Ron questioned, confused. "Why?"

"He didn't get himself healed yesterday. He has tons of injuries that need medical care." Harry noticed how she didn't meet their gazes properly, her eyes flicking between them without lingering for too long.

Ron then looked at him. "What's that about, mate? We were all healed yesterday. Bloody difficult not to be. What with all the healers trotting about after the battle and frisking you to check if anything was broken."

They both looked at him expectantly, and Harry couldn't help but feel just a bit defensive. "I don't know how this happened. It just did." He hoped that was enough of an explanation. He didn't really need another lecture from his other best friend; one that would call him an idiot for neglecting himself.

But Ron didn't seem happy at the prospect of postponing his trek through the forest. "What if Hermione and I meet you there, mate? You don't mind, do you? I'd like the help and I don't really want you to exert yourself without going to St. Mungo's first."

Harry honestly hadn't expected such a reaction. He also didn't expect Hermione to let out a small laugh. He and Ron stared at her incredulously.

"We can't let Harry go by himself. It's going to be absolute madness when he goes out into the public." She closed the book she was reading and stood up. "Besides, it's not like we can find the Stone without Harry's help. He dropped it, he's probably the only one who will be able to recognize the place the Stone could be."

Ron looked back at him, and Harry could see that he wasn't happy. Not at all. Reluctantly, his friend nodded. "Fine. St. Mungo's first, then the Forbidden Forest." He gestured towards the kitchen. "Let's just eat something before, yeah?" Without waiting for a response from either of them, Ron left.

Hermione didn't even look at Harry when she said, "We just have to make sure not to find that Stone."

And before he could say anything else, she left.

Harry stood alone at the living room at the Burrow, with only one thought penetrating his mind. He really needed to leave; and soon.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 - Betrayal and Promise (Prompts)  
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St. Mungo's was exactly how Hermione said it would be. People kept clamouring just to see him, take pictures with him, speak to him and shake his hand. Harry felt a headache coming on within the first fifteen minutes of the commotion. It was finally Hermione and Ron who managed to keep others at bay in order to find them a Healer. And it wasn't that he was short of willing Healers, either. Nearly everyone who he met tried to fight the other to be the Healer who healed Harry Potter after the Final Battle of Hogwarts. It was bloody tiring.

But then, his best mates managed to find someone who was more annoyed with the commotion created by his presence than excited by it, and who wanted to heal the Boy Who Lived just to get him out of the hospital. Gratefully, Harry sat patiently as the unimpressed Healer did his job with a disapproving, grim expression. Once he was put back together, Ron grabbed his and Hermione's hands and Apparated. Which is how they found themselves in the Forbidden Forrest an hour later, making their way through the dense natural growth.

Harry could see Ron from the corner of his eyes as he appraised the Forest, his forehead marred by a frown. This was a fruitless effort, one that increased his guilt of the situation with every step he took. He felt the undeniable need to show Ron where the Resurrection Stone was buried, admit to him what he and Hermione had done, and let the chips fall where they may. Lying to his best mate of seven years felt wrong, and he couldn't help but look at Hermione - who was a far bit ahead of them - and wonder if she felt like they were betraying the one other person they trust.

"I saw her come out of your room, you know. Hermione."

Harry stopped, surprised by what Ron had said under his breath in a barely heard mumble.

Ron continued to casually look around, almost as if his tone wasn't accusatory at all. "I thought she was sleeping in Ginny's room."

Harry felt his heartbeat quicken in panic, the question of whether or not to lie forming in his mind. "She _was_ in Ginny's room," he said, trying to keep his tone every bit as casual as his best mate as he continued to walk beside him.

"What was she doing in yours then?" The question seemed almost innocent.

And Harry honestly had no answer that was appropriate enough to give. Anything he said would seem like the wrong thing and give Ron the wrong idea. _Or the right one_, he thought hastily.

"She kissed me, you know," Ron continued in a low voice, his voice still keeping that annoyingly casual tone.

"Yeah. I got there. I was actually there, remember?"

Ron looked up at him quickly. "No need to snap at me, mate. I was just reminding you."

Harry stopped again, unable to hide the agitation in his voice. "I remember it fine, thanks." It was obvious that Ron was trying to say something without actually saying it.

Ron looked at him seriously, almost as if he was sizing him up. "Good."

Harry felt the agitation in him increase with every passing moment. "What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Ron's jaw twitched and Harry could guess from that small movement that h really didn't want to have this conversation. "Just promise me that you'll stay away from her, alright?"

There was no doubt who he was talking about, but Harry felt the selfish urge to hear his friend say it. "Who?"

It was apparent that Ron wasn't happy with saying it out loud, but he did anyway. "Hermione. You have Ginny, so stay away from Hermione."

"I don't _have_ Ginny."

"Well, you can always get her back, can't you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "What is it that you're afraid of, Ron?"

Ron's jaw twitched even more, a sure sign that he was holding in his anger. "You think I don't see the way you look at her? The way you always follow her around like a long lost puppy?" He stepped even closer, towering over Harry with all of his anger barely in check. "I know she didn't sleep last night in Ginny's bed. How do you think that makes you look?"

His meaning couldn't have been any clearer, and the insult couldn't have been taken in any other way. Harry stood his ground, his gaze narrowed considerably in anger. "Nothing happened," he said slowly, almost as if saying it slower would make it go into Ron's head clearer. "You know her better than that."

Before Ron could say anything else, they heard Hermione's voice. "You two coming?"

They both looked at her before they each sent a meaningful look at the other. Their thoughts were obvious. The conversation was far from over.

As Ron began trudging towards Hermione, Harry's gaze met hers. She looked at him confusion before she seemed to read him once again. Her features immediately changed to one of pure panic, her eyes asking him one simple request: _don't tell him._

But Harry wasn't sure whether or not to reveal where the Stone was. The guilt of hiding it played heavily against the anger he felt at his best friend for trying to control something that _he_ had no control over.

"Harry," Hermione asked him gently. "Are you coming?"

When Harry finally looked up, it was Ron's expression that finally made the decision for him. Angry and hurt by his best mate's thoughts of him, and feeling an undeniable urge to hurt him in any way he could, Harry said softly, "I know where the Resurrection Stone is."

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	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 - The need to hit something and Formal (Prompts)**

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The silence that followed the statement Harry just made was not at all unexpected. He kept his gaze on Ron, who looked at him as if he had just said that he was really Voldemort in disguise.

"What do you mean you _know_ where the Resurrection Stone is?"

Just like the night before, Hermione looked at him with a pleading expression; a small twitch of her head telling him that he should say nothing more. But he was nothing if not stubborn.

"It's more towards the other side, buried under a tree root."

Ron's eyes narrowed at him. "I thought you didn't know where you dropped it," he said slowly, his tone accusing.

Before Harry could say anything else, Hermione stepped forward quickly, saying his name in warning. Ron's gaze whipped onto her so fast that Harry could have sworn he heard the clash of bone from the whiplash caused by the quick movement of his neck..

"You _knew?_" Ron asked Hermione. "Both of you _knew_?" He looked between them, his expression falling into an ugly sneer. "What were we doing all this time, then? What are you two playing at?"

Hermione looked at Harry hopelessly before she turned apologetic eyes towards him. "I'm sorry, Ron. But-"

"It was my idea." They both looked at him in surprise. Keeping his gaze solely on Ron and deliberately _not_ on Hermione, Harry continued. "It was too dangerous to let it be lying about in the forest. So I buried it."

Ron looked at him curiously, his confusion only seeming to increase. "You buried it? Then what the bloody hell were we doing all this time?" Almost as if he was finally seeing Harry for the first time, realization dawned in Ron's eyes. "You were trying to keep it from me."

Harry stayed silent, uninterested in disagreeing with him or even trying to explain himself.

His silence only seemed to incense Ron further. "What? I'm not good enough to see my dead relatives, is it? You're the only one who has a right to use the Stone?"

"Ron," Hermione said softly, stepping closer to him. "Stop it. Harry was just-"

"Harry was what?" Ron snapped at her, his tone cold. "Looking out for everyone's best interest?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't just-"

"I don't think anyone should use it," Harry said quickly, interrupting what Hermione was obviously going to admit to. She looked at him in confusion, her eyes trying to figure out exactly what he was thinking. If he was forced to answer, he would have had to admit that he had no idea.

"_You_ don't think?" Ron scoffed. "Last time I checked that bloody Stone isn't yours. You had no bloody right keeping it from me."

Hermione stepped closer to him. "Ron-"

"No," he snapped. "I don't want to hear how great an idea it was to bury the thing. And I don't want to hear how brilliantly wrong it is to use it." He turned towards Harry and asked him in a demanding tone, "Where is it?"

Harry's jaw twitched with the effort to hold in his anger. He looked right at Ron and shook his head.

As expected, Ron advanced on him, his anger apparent. "Tell me where it is."

"No."

"Tell me," he sneered.

Harry was too busy staring down his friend stubbornly to notice when Hermione stepped between them, effectively pushing them back with a firm hand on each of their chests.

"Stop it, you two."

"I'll stop it," Ron said stubbornly before his eyes fell on her, "if you tell me where it is."

"I..."

"Or are you taking his side again?"

Hermione looked between the two of them helplessly. "We can't keep having this argument. You must know by now that I'm not taking _anyone_'s side."

Ron looked unconvinced. "Could have fooled me." Then his gaze returned back to Harry. "Either you help me find it, or you get out of my way."

Harry kept his eyes narrowed angrily when he hissed, "Consider me leaving."

Ron's jaw tightened. "Fine."

Harry felt his jaw hurt from the sheer pressure of grinding his teeth in an effort to withhold his anger. "Brilliant."

With a final look between the two of them, Ron turned on his heel and stalked off. Harry watched him angrily, his fingers flexing with the need to hit something in order to let out some steam. It was finally Hermione who got his attention with a swift slap to his shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

Harry kept his gaze on Ron's retreating back, his hand forming into a painfully tight fist. "I wasn't." And the funny thing was, that was perfectly true.

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	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 - A Life Relived and Memory (Prompts)  
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It was with great reluctance that Harry allowed himself to be dragged after Ron by Hermione.

"You need to talk to him."

"I need to do no such thing."

She tugged on his arm roughly. "He doesn't understand why we did what we did. That's why he's acting that way."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "And what do you expect me to do about it? Put him on my lap and explain why using the Stone is wrong?"

She rolled her eyes. "For lack of a better imagery, yes."

Harry tried to stop walking, not for the first time, only to be forcibly dragged by her again.

"This is why I didn't want to tell him about the Stone. I was afraid of another argument."

"That worked out well, didn't it?" Harry mumbled dryly.

Hermione smiled humorlessly. "His temper is something. I always seem to make things worse." She looked at him meaningfully. "Which is why _you_ should be the one to talk to him."

"I don't know if you noticed back there, but I'm currently mad at him myself. I have no desire to explain anything."

They stopped suddenly when they saw Ron moodily kick a rock. "Then do it for me," Hermione said softly, "for us."

Harry felt himself inwardly groan. One of his many weaknesses that Hermione loved to exploit was his need to do things that she wanted. "Fine. But if he doesn't budge, I'm leaving."

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione smiled at him gratefully before letting go of his arm. He immediately missed the contact and mentally kicked himself for doing something he didn't like just to make her smile. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he walked towards Ron.

"Find anything yet?"

Ron scoffed before looking over his shoulder. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Harry shrugged. "A little. Yeah."

Ron rewarded his attempt at a conversation with silence, choosing to walk away from him. Harry followed silently.

"You don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Ron asked reluctantly as he kept walking.

It was obvious to Harry that Ron was trying to ignore his presence, but was failing miserably at it. "You don't get the feeling that comes over you when you hold the Stone."

That made Ron stop in his tracks. He waited impatiently until Harry joined him. "Is this another one of your plans to stop me from getting it?"

"No," Harry said honestly. "It's the truth. When I went back to bury the Stone..." He trailed off, unsure of how to explain how he felt at that time.

"Yeah?" Ron nudged him.

Harry cleared his throat before continuing. "I felt this...magnetism towards it. It wasn't easy letting go. That need to see them is overwhelming. I don't think I could have stopped using the Resurrection Stone. Ever."

Ron shook his head, almost as if he refused to believe what his friend was telling him. "You left it though, didn't you?"

"Only because of Hermione. If she wasn't there..."

"What are you saying, mate? That you don't think I'm strong enough?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No. I don't think anyone's strong enough. Ever since I buried it, not a moment has passed when I don't think of coming back and getting it. It's addictive, Ron."

"All I want is to use it once. Just to see Fred. That's all. I'll put it back and then we'll all be done with it."

"But that's the thing, isn't it? It's not Fred. He won't be a life relived, but a memory."

But Ron looked at him in determination. "You got to see your parents. Why shouldn't I get the same chance?"

"Because I did it while there was a war going on. If I used it now..." Harry shrugged. "I can tell you that anytime I feel lonely or upset, I will have to fight the urge to come here and get it."

"And why should you be the only one who has that option?" Ron questioned dryly.

"I don't want to have that option," Harry said slowly, a thought materializing in his mind. "Which is why you should Obliviate me."

Ron looked at him incredulously. "What?"

Harry simply eyed him in expectation. "Go on. Draw your wand."

Ron shifted uncomfortably before his eyes fell on Hermione, who was watching them silently from a fair distance away. "You're mental."

"Maybe. But I'm not wrong about this."

Ron eyed him warily, a battle raging within him before he let out a defeated sigh. "You know I won't do that."

"I'm asking you to."

"Well, I'm not bloody listening, am I?" Ron let out another sigh. "I don't like this. I want that Stone."

"I know," Harry said gently.

Ron looked at him hopefully. "If ever I need it, you'll tell me where it is?"

Harry sent him a meaningful look.

"Right." Ron shifted a little before his eyes fell on Hermione. "She knew, didn't she? The whole time?"

Harry looked over his shoulder at her as she waited patiently for them to have it out. Once his gaze met his best mate's, he nodded.

"Thought so," Ron said softly. The words sounded so...final.

Together, they made their way to the third member of the trio. Harry found his mind occupied with the extremely attractive idea of forgetting where the Resurrection Stone was buried as well as certain other memories that had invariably changed how he currently acted towards his other best friend.

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	22. Chapter 22

**A/N - So sorry for being MIA. Exams combined with sickness is never a good thing. **

**Also, a friend of mine, Ms Velvela, made a lovely banner for this story which can be found on my profile page. And onward with the next chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22 - City and Denial (Prompts)<strong>

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It wasn't that Harry was in denial of this incredibly important thing he had done, but it was more of the fact that he didn't see his role in the Final Battle as more important than anyone else's. Just like every other altercation with Voldemort, he was convinced that the result was a combination of people willing to help him and simple bloody luck.

But no matter how many times he said this, it seemed to fall on deaf ears. And that was very much annoying.

"People like to believe in a hero, Harry."

Harry's glance fell on his best friend who sat beside him. "I'm not the only hero. What about all those who died to make sure that we succeeded? What about you and Ron?"

Hermione smiled lightly. "They haven't forgotten about any of us."

"Sure seems like it," he mumbled dryly. Not for the first time he felt the impulse to move away; go to a city or a country where no one knew his name and what he had done.

It was at that moment that Kingsley entered the Minister for Magic office, a grim expression on his face. "I'm sorry to keep you two waiting. It seems like everyone knew that Harry Potter had come into the building, besides me. I'm sorry about the mob below."

"It's fine," Harry said with a quick shake of his head. It really wasn't; but he wasn't going to say that.

Once Kingsley took his place behind the large desk that dominated the room, he looked at them both. "Where's Ron?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who shifted awkwardly in her seat. "He's at the Burrow, with the rest of his family." What she failed to say was how Ron could barely look at her before he had said that he should be with his family and Apparated without them. Hermione had clearly been upset before she had grabbed Harry's hand and brought him to the Ministry to take care of the business of Grimmauld Place.

Kingsley nodded in understanding. "How are they doing?"

"Not well," Harry said grimly.

Kingley's expression stayed passive as he asked, "What can we do for you?"

Hermione immediately looked at Harry expectantly, a silent nudge to continue.

"I was wondering," Harry began slowly, "if there is any reason why I _shouldn't_ stay at Grimmauld Place."

"Actually," Hermione piped in with a small smile. "_I_ was wondering about that. Harry would have gone last night if he could."

Kingsley looked at them thoughtfully. "All the wards are still up?" He waited for their nods of confirmation before he continued. "Then I see no reason why you shouldn't go back."

Harry looked pointedly at his best friend who sat up that much straighter. "What about other Death Eaters? What if they know the general area? Harry won't be safe whenever he goes in or comes out of Grimmauld Place."

Kingsley let out a small smile. "I had no intention of letting Harry be unprotected."

Harry immediately knew what that meant, and he wanted none of it. "No." They both looked at him in surprise. "I don't want anyone following me. I'm done with that."

"Harry-"

"I'm serious, Hermione."

"You have no choice, I'm afraid," Kingsley said seriously. "Now is a crucial time. We should all be careful. And that includes you."

Harry stayed stubbornly still. It would be great, just for once, if everyone could let him hide under the illusion that it was safe again. This was, after all, what he had been working towards for several years. He really needed the mental rest.

"There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about, Harry," Kingsley said gently, his tone creating a feeling of dread within him. "We will be having a service tomorrow for all those who fell during the Final Battle." Harry's gut clenched, somehow knowing what the current Minister for Magic was about to ask of him. "There are many who want you to say a few words. I told them that it would be difficult for you," Kingsley continued cautiously. "But that doesn't mean that a lot of people wouldn't expect it."

Harry found himself shaking his head even before Kingsley could finish what he was saying. He couldn't do that. He couldn't speak. What was he supposed to say? There were others so much more articulate than him. He would mess it up brilliantly; say the wrong thing and be exposed for the fraud he was. "No." He couldn't. He just...couldn't.

He felt Hermione lightly place her hand on his, her touch gently prying his fingers from the fist he had created before entwining them around hers. "Let's go," she said gently.

He nodded, squeezing her hand in thanks. He didn't really want to discuss this right now.

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	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 - Touch and Arrows (Prompts)**

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Going back to the Burrow to get his things wasn't as uneventful as Harry had thought.

Fleur fussed over him, thankfully in a way that was touching and not overly maternal; Bill and Percy helped make sure that he didn't leave anything behind, and Charlie tried to convince him to stay. He was told that George had finally fallen asleep after staying up the whole night. Ginny still wasn't on speaking terms with him, and he couldn't help but feel regret whenever his eyes fell on her.

And even though he had expected as much, he still found himself mildly surprised when Hermione came forward with that beaded bag of hers. "I told you I won't let you stay alone."

He shared a small smile at her before he refused even more food that Fleur insisted he take with him.

"You're going with him, then?" They both looked towards the entrance to the kitchen to see Ron, his gaze solely on Hermione.

Hermione looked between them before her gaze fell on Ron pleadingly. "I can't let him go alone."

"Then you two should stay here."

They both looked at him, letting him know that the decision was in his hands. Harry looked awkwardly between them. The truth was that he needed to be alone. He didn't know how to act around a grieving family, and he felt like an intruder. But the last thing he wanted to do was cause a rift between his two best friends. Reluctantly, he looked at Hermione. "You should stay. I'll be fine." He tried to ignore Ron's mouth twisting into a small smile from the corner of his eye.

The tables were suddenly turned on her, making this her decision. She looked between them helplessly, almost as if she was worried of making the wrong choice.

Harry decided to make the decision for her. Lifting his rucksack over his shoulder, he nodded to all those in the room before he started towards the exit of the Burrow. He was aware of how Hermione's eyes followed him, her lips parted almost as if she wanted to say something to stop him. Which she didn't.

Harry made his way to the Apparition point quickly, determined to go to Grimmauld Place and rest. He found himself suddenly tired from the day's excursions, and all he wanted to do was have something warm to drink followed by uninterrupted sleep. He was also aware of the Auror who followed him a fare distance away, just as Kingsley had promised.

Getting to Grimmauld Place wasn't as unsafe as Hermione had made it out to be. If anything, knowing that Aurors were following him made Harry just a bit more reckless in where he Apparated and the stops he made on the way to the house. It was almost like a game, looking over his shoulder to see how far these wizards were behind him every time he stopped at a shop just to pass the time. Finally getting bored with this game, he entered the house he hadn't seen in nearly a year.

Nothing had seemed to change. After going through the wards with no problem, he dropped his rucksack and started walking through the house, stopping in every room as the memories washed over him. From the first time he set foot in Grimmauld Place, there had always been a sense of urgency about the place. People going in and coming out throughout the day, fighting a war that was now over. He had to repeat it to himself. The war was over. He felt this relief in his chest along with the same painful clenching in his gut at the thought; almost as if an arrow was twisting his insides causing the pain to become even more prominent than the brief feeling of happiness he had felt over that thought. He could remember happier times in the house he was standing in. One where everyone had laughed, played jokes and were undeniably alive.

A sudden sound startled him, breaking his reverie and causing Harry to pull out his wand out of sheer habit. In his mind he knew that Grimmauld place was safe, but it didn't stop his instincts from taking over and demand that he check whether all was right.

Moving slowly, so as to not make a sound, Harry kept going until another sound stopped him in his tracks. Someone had opened the door. His fist clenched around his wand as he shifted carefully, so as to see who had come in. He let out a happy breath when he saw who it was.

"You left this," Hermione said with a small smile.

Harry quickly pocketed his wand before he took the packaged food the Fleur had prepared for him with a grateful smile, his fingers lightly touching hers. She moved her hand back quickly, her body language showing him exactly how uncomfortable she seemed to be around him.

"We didn't want you to starve."

"Thanks." His eyes fell on the beaded bag that hung from her shoulder.

Her eyes followed his gaze before she looked up at him with a small smile. "I told you I wouldn't let you be alone." Then, almost as if she had shaken off whatever strange thing that had happened between them, she started for the kitchen. "Come on. It's nearly dinner time. We should eat something."

Harry followed her, a near giddy expression on his face. He suddenly felt relatively happier.

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	24. Chapter 24

**A/N - A quick author's note to say 'thank you' all for the lovely reviews. Since I write a drabble a day, it helps to know your thoughts since they help me come up with some sort of plot line.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 24 - Sudden and Descriptive (Prompts)<strong>

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><strong>

Harry watched Hermione as she started straightening out the kitchen while he sat idly, waiting for her to say something. He found himself itching to ask her how she had left the Burrow; find out whether Ron had tried to stop her or if they had an argument that ultimately led her here. But more than that, he wanted to know exactly _why_ he felt that she had chosen him over Ron and he wanted her to give him a sign as to whether she did or didn't. His mind would stop circling on various scenarios if he could only get her to answer one simple question: why she was currently in Grimmauld place with him instead of the Burrow comforting their best mate who had just lost his brother?

"Have you read today's paper?" Hermione asked suddenly as she turned towards him.

Harry shook his head. He hadn't even thought about it, to be honest. His mind had been too preoccupied with everything that had happened during the past two days. Besides, he could almost imagine the headline and the article following it. He wasn't naive enough to think that he wasn't mentioned in either. If anything, he wanted to see his name in the Daily Prophet as much as he did when he was fifteen years old and was called an attention seeking liar.

Pulling out the rolled up newspaper from that beaded bag of hers easily, she handed it over to him with a neutral expression on her face. Once Harry took it from her, she took a seat opposite him and watched him expectantly. Feeling like he was placed on the spot, Harry un-rolled the Daily Prophet and scanned the headline.

No surprises there. It was a detailed account of the Last Battle, along with interviews from a few survivors, Aurors and Ministry Officials. The account of the Final Battle was too descriptive for Harry's taste, the words making the incident sound like an epic battle where good finally triumphs without focusing much on the casualties or the people who suffered to bring about the favourable outcome. The newspapers would concentrate on the good that had happened, while downplaying the losses. And why shouldn't they? After years of living in terror, everyone was finally free. This wasn't something he hadn't expected. Confused as to what she had wanted him to read, Harry looked at Hermione in question.

She gestured to the newspaper in his hands. "Page three."

Harry dropped his gaze once more and searched out the article she wanted him to see. It didn't take long for his eyes to fall on his own name, placed boldly among others.

"That's why Kingsley wanted you to speak at the funeral. You've already been mentioned."

Straightening the inky print, Harry quickly scanned the article about the Memorial Service that was to take place the very next day. The article, written by one Sylvia Dredge stated inaccurately that the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World who defeated You-Know-Who with his powerful magic' was to make the closing statements for the ceremony. Harry felt his jaw tighten with anger. Kingsley should have told him.

"I'm not going to speak," he said softly, his tone shaking slightly with the rage he felt he was bottling up inside him.

"I know," Hermione said gently.

Her tone made him look up at her. "But?" He prompted her, knowing full well that she was about to say that word and explain something to him that he didn't really want to hear.

Hermione looked away, embarrassed. "But, would it be so bad?" The expression of incredulity on his face only made her more determined. "Would it be so awful to talk about what happened? To mention all those who fought with us and who didn't...survive?"

But Harry was already shaking his head as he placed the paper down. It was one thing to give an interview and recount everything that happened to a small group of people, it was quite another to stand before a large crowd while they mourned the dead and looked to him to have all the answers. They probably wanted him to give reasons as to why their losses ultimately helped them win the battle; they probably wanted a reason for every death so that it wasn't a waste in the grand scheme of things. And Harry knew deep down, that he wasn't the person to give them those reasons because he himself didn't understand them at all.

Keeping his gaze away from hers, he stood up quickly, suddenly feeling the need to be alone with his thoughts for a bit.

"Thank you for dinner."

Without waiting for her reaction, Harry left the kitchen, part of him feeling guilty when he caught a glimpse of Hermione's face.

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	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 - Neutral and Sweet (Prompts)**

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Harry stayed still as he stared at himself in the mirror. Just last year he had attended Dumbledore's funeral, and this year he had to attend so many that he could have easily lost count. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should get another set of dark robes to wear for the funerals as a spare.

The incident that spurred on these thoughts was the image of his pale reflection. He stood still as he appraised the dark robes that hung loosely across his shoulders, wondering vaguely how he had not noticed that he had lost so much weight during the past year. He pulled against the thick material to try to make it look more acceptable on him, even as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. The neutral expression he had tried to perfect didn't hide how uncomfortable he felt at the prospect of attending a Memorial Service where nearly everyone would be expecting him to make a statement; and no doubt a meaningful one, at that.

But the truth was, he wasn't prepared to face the families of all those they had lost, let alone talk about what had happened during the Final Battle. It almost felt sacred, what had happened; like it was something that only those who were part of it could understand it fully while those who wanted details couldn't even begin to comprehend what they had been through. Vaguely, he wondered if this was what Moody and all the other members of the first Order of the Phoenix thought when Harry and the others had asked questions about the battle. To them, it had been a well-known historical incident; but Harry could appreciate how the silence or the minimum information given on the subject by those who had survived that first battle, proved that it meant a whole lot more.

Not for the first time, he focused on the scar on his forehead that his messy hair still refused to hide. His mind immediately concentrating on one thought: how old he was and what he and his friends had been through. And with each passing second, unknowingly, Harry was silently talking himself out of attending the Memorial Service. He wanted to pay his respects to those who had died, but he figured that he could easily do that with their own individual funerals instead of attending a mass gathering that was more an act of political propaganda than really honouring all those who fell.

He felt like a pawn in the Ministry's game and he just didn't like it.

"Ready?"

He looked up, his gaze meeting Hermione's through the mirror as she stood near the exit of his current bedroom. "Not really."

Her lips quirked slightly upwards as she made her way to him; her hands immediately straightening the robes he had no luck with doing just moments before. "I think you need new robes. Or you should eat more," she added as an afterthought.

Harry found himself too busy looking at her to respond. She was wearing something black, modest, and unequivocally _Muggle_.

Hermione followed his gaze before she dusted imaginary lint from her knee length dress. "Those who fought, fought for people like me." She looked up then, her eyes clouded in sadness. "I figured that it was the least I could do to show my appreciation."

He nodded silently, very much aware that the last thing he should be doing at a time like this was to think how attractive she looked with a Muggle dress that showed off her curves much better than a wizarding robe could have ever done.

"We should go before we get late," she whispered softly as she stepped unnecessarily close to adjust his collar, her fingers lightly brushing against the column of his neck. When she finally looked up, she smiled sweetly at him. "Shall we?"

Harry felt the sudden impulse to circle his arms around her and give her a comforting embrace; instead he opted to nod in agreement while he watched in dismay as she took a step back. The recent change in dynamic between him and Hermione left him feeling uneven footed. He didn't know where he stood or even if he felt comfortable doing certain things that he used to do around her all the time. But he did know that if it came right down to it, he wouldn't hesitate to do anything for her.

Silently, he nodded, allowing her to hold his arm as she led them out while all he could think was how much he didn't want to attend this service.

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	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 - Look and Thousand (Prompts)**

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The Memorial Service that was organized by the Ministry for Magic was held outside, just on the outskirts of Hogwarts where the Final Battle had raged. Harry noticed neatly placed chairs that seemed scarcely enough to seat the crowd of witches and wizards that had arrived. There were too many people to count; seemed like thousands had come to attend the service for all those they had lost, most of them wearing dark robes appropriately to commemorate the occasion. All that is, except for two individual beings. Luna and her father wore robes that were brightly coloured, making them stand out splendidly against the background of gloomy colours that surrounded them. The image made Harry smile. He was glad to see that some things never really changed and he made a mental note to go speak to them soon. Something told him that he would need a good distraction today of all days, and the famously quirky father and daughter was his salvation from doing the one impulse he had: to turn on his heel and leave before anyone would see him. He rather fancied staying hidden while the service went on, so that he could grieve for his friends without having people look at him.

If there was anything that could have made Harry feel even more uncomfortable than he already did, it was the looks he received the moment he was recognized as he stepped closer.

Almost like the flow of a wave, once one person noticed him, so did another, then another, then another, until everyone seemed to have stopped their personal discussions and were looking at him carefully. He found himself shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly in hopes that everyone who had attended the memorial service would stop looking at him like a historical artefact on exhibition. He had thought that they would treat him the way they did the first time he came to the wizarding world; but apparently he had been wrong. The careful scrutiny of all those who watched him was eerily a mixture of those who grinned widely at him and those who watched him with a guarded expression, almost as if they expected him to turn around and vanquish them where they stood.

It was Hermione who broke him out of his reverie when she grabbed his hand and started pulling him forwards. He was grateful for that little nudge. He was too self-conscious to move on his own. And it didn't help when the crowd immediately parted to let him and Hermione through; their steps slow as they moved back and bowed their heads in a sign of respect. When he had first entered the Leaky Cauldron all those years ago, people had gushed, rushed to shake his hand and tell him how much of a celebrity he was. But then he realized that those who met him at that time, had met him ten years after Voldemort fell the first time. This was simply days after and they probably were still deciding if the Daily Prophet had stated the truth and the Dark Lord _had_ in fact died. They were fooled into believing it the first time which probably made them wary as to whether they would believe it the second time. He would have loved it if they would just look away from him as they contemplated this. Although, he had to admit, that as he moved through the crowd, his eyes immediately searched for all those who looked at him with curiously impassive expressions, his impulse to study their features strong as he passed them one by one.

Hermione led him to the front where he saw familiar faces and finally let himself relax, even if it was only for a bit. Fleur kissed him on both cheeks warmly as he received nods of acknowledgement from the rest of the Weasleys. He couldn't help but notice that two of the red-headed members of the family were missing.

"Mum hasn't gotten out of bed yet," Bill said quietly in answer to Harry's unasked question. "Dad's staying with her."

Harry nodded in understanding as he spotted George over Bill's shoulder as he was seated silently right in the corner, almost as if he was preparing himself for a quick getaway. Following his gaze, Bill smiled lightly. "Strangely, he didn't want to miss it."

As Bill and Fleur took their seats and gestured to two seats next to Ron, thankfully a few seats away from Ginny, he felt Hermione's fingers slip out of his grasp. He needn't have looked far to see that Ron's gaze on their entwined hands made her let go of him. He felt himself twitch with annoyance. Partly because he missed the contact and the comfort it gave him, and partly because he knew that today was difficult for his best mate and he couldn't really fault her for wanting to keep things simple, without letting any altercation come between them.

Without looking at each other, they sat on either side of him and shared a small smile of understanding, both of them determined to comfort their best friend any way they could.

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	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 - Mortally wounded and Spaces (Prompts)**

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The service moved too slowly. There were speeches from so many people, occasionally interesting, but mostly repetitive as they spoke about the Final Battle. Some compared the final standing against Voldemort to the First Battle fought while others spoke of the bravery of the younger generation and the ridiculously high expectations that were now placed on their shoulders. There were speeches about what was to come, statements about how everything was now the past and how everyone should look to the future. It almost sounded as if what they had gone through was a serious glitch, one that could be easily overcome like a mortal wound. But looking around, Harry knew that wasn't the case.

He had never been the type of person to listen to long, drawn out speeches and this was no exception. He found his mind wandering within minutes of the opening address. His eyes immediately fell on those who sat on either side of him; from the members of the Ministry for Magic on his right to Hermione, Ron and the rest of the Weasleys to his left. All of their expressions were melancholy, and Harry couldn't help but notice that those who had fought alongside him against Voldemort and his Death Eaters kept their heads low. He even managed to share a few acknowledging nods with his fellow class men who had attended the service with their loved ones.

When Kingsley finally took the podium and started mentioning all those who fell, Harry felt Ron stiffen right beside him. His best mate leaned back with a low breath, almost as if he was bracing himself for something horrible and Harry immediately placed a comforting hand on his shoulder which earned him a thankful look.

Kingsley went through the names alphabetically, giving a small description following each name to appease the family members in attendance of those who didn't survive. As he came towards the names under 'W', Ron's fists clenched, the only indication that he was in any way affected by the proceedings since he had taken great care in keeping his features impassive. A small movement in the corner of his eye made Harry notice that Hermione had placed her hand comfortingly on his best mate's hand. But the next second, Ron had moved his hand right out from under hers and shifted closer to him, his very behaviour screaming that he wanted nothing to do with her. Harry need not have seen Hermione's face to know that she was probably devastated by the rejection. Especially since Ron's impassive features had hardened considerably after that one moment.

Harry frowned, unable to determine if the tangle of emotions he was feeling was a good thing or a bad thing. It was obvious that Ron had forgiven him and not her; that very fact upset him. But the unfamiliar feeling within him that had started showing its face since half way through the Horcrux hunt felt differently. That need to keep Hermione selfishly beside him and away from Ron was elated by the snub and made him feel guilty for it. Fred Weasley's name was one of the hardest to hear, along with Remus, Tonks, Colin Creevy and especially Snape. Once Kingsley had completed his list and moved on to the ideals of the future, Harry realized with a pang that no one had mentioned Dobby. Surely the former house-elf deserved something more than a grave for all that he had done. He felt the urge to mention his friend. Everyone needed to know that he and his friends wouldn't have been standing here if it weren't for him. If anything, none of them would be sitting here if it weren't for his bravery.

Harry's fists were clenched and his mind was set to give Kingsley exactly what he asked for; if only to let everyone know that there were others who were instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort, when it happened.

He caught a glimpse of a dark cloak that was immediately hidden by the thickness of the Forbidden Forest. Harry squinted at the spot, trying to discern if it had been a trick of the light, or whether he had seen someone hiding. He didn't have that much time to think about it. For while he was too preoccupied by what he thought he saw, a sudden sound like an explosion permeated the air, along with the immediate uprising of the earth around them, the particles of sand hitting them sharply like shards of glass. Harry immediately ducked along with all those around him, his hands moving to cover his ears as the loud bangs continued. The sudden panicked screams and scrambling of bodies were overwhelming. He immediately reached for his two best friends to make sure they were alright, while his other hand searched inside his robes for his wand. Within moments, Aurors had them surrounded protectively with their wands drawn and waiting for another attack, even as they were all huddled close together in wake of that disturbing sound that was now accompanied by a screech every now and then by someone who was afraid.

Harry immediately raised his eyes to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his senses telling him that there had been someone there; someone who had done this. Under the hazy sense of panic, he thought he saw movement. Even though Forest was dark, he was sure he could trust his eyes. Clenching his wand tight, he made a run for it, his feet moving fast even as he heard his name called after him. He was even aware of the sound of hurrying steps just after a short moment. But Harry didn't stop. He was too busy hearing the loud pounding of his heart over the cries of his name.

He had seen him; he was sure of it.

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	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 - My heart didn't break, it shattered and Excess (Prompts)**

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The moment Harry entered the Forbidden Forest, he looked around breathlessly, his gaze squinting at every tree suspiciously for the black cloak he had seen only a few seconds ago. When he heard the scrunch of footsteps behind him, he turned around quickly, expecting to find Hermione and Ron at his heels. Instead, he came face to face with two individuals who wore the Auror robes, their wands drawn and their gazes fixed on him curiously.

"I saw someone."

The bigger, burlier man took slow steps so that his back was to Harry. "Where?"

"I'm not sure." He wondered if the person he was chasing had managed to Apparate without any of them hearing the cursory sound, or whether he was hiding somewhere between the thick growth of trees. The accompanying silence only succeeded in proving to him that he _had_ seen the person responsible for the commotion. Or at least his cloak.

The Aurors exchanged a glance, the person who spoke telling the other with a twitch of his head to move closer to Harry. They both stood protectively on either side of him before the other Auror shook his head. "I think it's better if we take you back, Potter."

The Auror who first spoke nodded. "Let's get you some place safe."

Harry felt his lips purse in annoyance. It surprised him that they still treated him like he was their secret weapon when technically he had already done what he had been asked to do. "I saw someone," he said forcefully, wondering if they even believed him.

"Whoever was here, they are gone now," the second Auror said thoughtfully even as he started cautiously nudging Harry out of the Forest.

Harry's mouth was just parting to demand that they search the vicinity when a spine-chilling scream pierced the air. With a quick glance to each toward each other, they moved quickly, their feet scrunching the fallen leaves as they leapt over tree roots and haphazard rocks as they made their way out of the thick growth.

He saw it the moment they were out in the clearing, the green mark floating sinisterly over the very place where he had been with thousands of people. He felt his chest clench in fear, knowing what the Dark Mark meant: Death Eaters. Had there been a death? Was anyone injured? The very thought of seeing Hermione, Ron or anyone else who had been there dead wouldn't just cause his heart to break, but to shatter. Harry didn't think he had it in him to live through another death. He didn't wait for the other two Aurors, he ran quickly towards the space where the Memorial Service had been held, his breath baited in fear. When he saw Ron, then Hermione huddled with all the Weasleys, he felt a thankful breath leave him as he made his way over to them and embraced them immediately, one arm around each of their necks.

"Blimey, where were you?" Ron asked after he pulled away. "One minute you were right next to me, the next, gone." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We tried to go after you, but they stopped us." Harry followed his best mate's gaze until his eyes landed on two other Aurors who seemed deep in conversation with the two who had followed him earlier.

Harry's gaze then fell on the rest of the people who were there. Some helping people to their feet while others comforted those next to them in any way they could. Hermione seemed to understand his unasked question.

"No one's hurt. Just after you left, someone sent the Dark Mark." She embraced him again, her voice soft against his ear when she whispered, "We were worried it had something to do with you." She pulled back and touched him gently, almost as if she was doing a quick examination to make sure he wasn't hurt. "What happened?"

"I thought I saw someone at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just before all this happened." His face scrunched up in confusion. "What was that, anyway?"

"No bleeding idea." Ron gestured to the Head of the Auror office who was speaking to Kingsley a few feet away. "But they might know."

It was at that moment that Bill came towards them, his expression sombre. "They want us all to go into the Great Hall. I think they want all of our statements."

Harry heard Ron mumble 'Brilliant' sarcastically under his breath.

Either Bill ignored him or he just didn't hear since he continued without missing a beat. "I'm going to see what I can do to get us to leave early. Mum would have heard about the Mark soon enough; I'd rather she see everyone with her own eyes before she thinks something unnecessary."

They nodded in agreement before they heard the deep voice of Kingsley behind them. "Harry."

Harry nearly jumped in surprise before he turned to face the imposing figure of the former Auror.

"Can we have a word?"

Stoically, he nodded, wondering why that tone of voice made him feel the way he usually did whenever McGonagall called him.

Ron nudged him. "Go on, mate. We'll be here when you get back." Hermione nodded while she shared a small smile with him.

Harry watched them join the rest of the excessive group of people as they made their way to his former school. Turning around, he noticed the small group of Ministry Officials who stood ominously waiting for him.

With a tired sigh, he started walking towards them. This couldn't be good.

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	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 - Moonlight and Purity (Prompts)**

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Harry found himself walking back towards Hogwarts slowly; his steps unsteady. He felt the need to postpone the conversation he was about to have with his best mates for the simple reason that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts; at least for a while.

What Kingsley told him was a lot to take in, and the expressions of all those other Ministry Officials as they looked at him expectantly had been disconcerting. How is it that they all looked at him as if he was supposed to come up with a solution? When did he graduate from a child who got by due to sheer luck into a person who people rested their hopes on? And this was far from how it was last year. People had harboured a reluctant hope in his abilities, but that didn't mean that they didn't prepare themselves for his failure. He had, in his own way, embraced the way they had doubted his abilities because that was so close to how he felt about himself. But to have everyone look at him like some bloody hero who could do no wrong...

Harry was too busy musing over his own thoughts before he realized that he passed someone with blond hair; someone who had been watching him with mild curiosity as he entered the castle.

Startled by the realization, he turned around and smiled. "Sorry, Luna. Didn't see you there."

The girl who never failed to surprise him, smiled serenely, her mismatched moon and sun earrings dangling from side to side. "Don't worry. A lot of people don't quite see me."

His first impulse was to deny that fact vehemently. No one could ever accuse her of blending in. She was one of the few people who stood out splendidly when compared to others. Instead, his smile widened as he asked her, "Where's your dad?" He also made a conscious effort not to blatantly stare at her robes that seemed to change colour depending on how the light hit it. It was such an odd choice to wear to a funeral.

Luna looked around her slowly, almost as if she had forgotten that her father wasn't next to her. But when she spoke, her tone betrayed the knowledge that she did in fact know where her father was. "Father is speaking to a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. For you see, he recently discovered a disease that is plaguing the Western Gillibit and he wishes the Minister to give the matter his utmost attention."

Knowing fully well that he was going to regret it, Harry asked, "Disease?"

"Yes," she continued in that same dreamy tone. "It gives them boils that turn green when they go out in the moonlight."

Harry knew this was the moment that he had to stop his questions or else he would be spending the rest of the day trying to figure out exactly what she was going on about. He chose to smile at her, hoping that it wouldn't betray his confusion. Sometimes, he wondered if Luna was just so pure that she could see through everything else. Her tone was always light and floaty, and her eyes never really had the intensity as anyone else, but the words spoken by her always had the wisdom in them that he couldn't help but respect.

"Funny, isn't it?" Luna asked thoughtfully, her glance falling to where the service had been just a few moments ago.

Harry eyed her in confusion. "What is?"

"There were more people before the Service than after."

"What do you mean?" he asked her, a frown marring his features.

"Nothing, really," she continued in that thoughtful tone. "Normally there would always be more people when something exciting happens."

Harry wouldn't have willingly called what had happened terribly exciting, but he couldn't help but take note of her words. "You mean there were people who left just after the attack?" That wasn't out of the ordinary. People were bound to be scared and leave in order to get to some place safe.

Luna smiled patiently. "I'm talking about those who left before."

Harry stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in before his mind could understand exactly what she was telling him. "You mean there were people who left just _before_ the attack happened?" Her smile seemed to answer his question. "Did you see them? Do you know what they looked like?"

"Not really," Luna said smiling before she looked over her shoulder. "Father is ready." Harry followed her gaze until he spotted Xenophilius Lovegood as he gestured to his only daughter. Briefly Harry wondered how she knew that her father was there before even looking. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry nodded, distracted. "Goodbye, Luna."

He waited until she turned her back to him before he started towards the Great Hall with quick steps. He really needed to speak to Hermione and Ron.

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	30. Chapter 30

**A/N - Quick note to say that I'm taking a break from this story in order to focus on a few others that I've kept on the back-burner since I started this. Once I catch up on those, I'll continue with the daily updates. Since the prompts are put out daily, I can pick up from where I left off with a new set of prompts. 70 more chapters to go *whew!*  
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**Thank you to all those who have favourited and reviewed. I really appreciate the interest you've shown towards this experiment :)  
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><p><strong>Chapter 30 - If only and Enigma (Prompts)<strong>

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By the time Harry made it to the Great Hall the crowd that had attended the service had already dispersed, leaving behind only a few people milling around as they spoke in soft, whispered conversation. Ron and Hermione were among them. The moment his best mates saw him, they made their way over to him quickly, their eyes studying him curiously. Ron was the first to blurt out his question.

"What did they want?"

Harry looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear, only to be disappointed when he realized that they had no such luck. There were still too many people and they were all too close. "Where's your family?"

Ron looked at him in confusion. "They were sent home. Most of the people were. It's not like anyone was observant or anything, innit? Everyone was too busy ducking when they heard the noise."

Hermione leaned forward, her eyes concerned. "What is it, Harry? What was that all about?"

Harry looked at them both meaningfully before turning on his heel and walking out. As expected, his best friends followed him silently, albeit curiously. Once they were out of the castle and away from visible prying eyes, he turned towards them.

"What's with all the secrecy?" Ron questioned in exasperation, even if he did seem a tad bit excited by the prospect of having something to be secret about.

Harry lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "It was a distraction, what happened out there."

"A distraction for what?" Hermione asked in confusion.

He stepped even closer to them, aware that what he was about to say might cause them to panic and say something that others shouldn't hear. "Someone tried to break into Dumbledore's tomb."

"_What_?" Ron hissed. "Why?"

But Harry found his gaze held by Hermione who seemed to understand what he was saying. "The Wand," she whispered softly, realization dawning in her eyes.

Ron looked at both of them in confusion. "I thought no one knew it was there."

"Apparently, someone did," Harry mumbled dryly. It was something else to worry about. A loose thread that could unravel everything they had worked so hard for.

"It makes sense," Hermione said in a thoughtful tone. "There were so many people during the Battle. We didn't get every Death Eater. All it takes is one person to have overheard Harry telling Voldemort that he was the true Master."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "Blimey, Harry, does that mean they're after you?" Harry's silence only caused Ron to let out a low breath. "Brilliant," he said sarcastically, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Harry knew exactly how his best mate felt. He was just as tired, just as drained, and he had no intention of going back to how things were before the Final Battle when he was hunted. He didn't exactly relish the idea of those around him still being in danger, either. If only he could just live his life just as he always wanted to do. He'd rather be plain, boring, with no title than the celebrity enigma people held him out to be.

It was with great difficulty that Harry finally met Hermione's eyes. "What do you think?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I think...we should do whatever it takes to keep you safe." Then, almost as if an unpleasant thought suddenly materialized in her mind, her eyes widened. "Wait. What about the Elder Wand? Did whoever try to break in actually _get_ it?"

Shaking his head with a slight twitch, Harry gestured briefly to the right side of his robes where they knew he had a pocket to house his wand; or in this case two. They both stared at him incredulously.

"Kingsley gave it to you?" Hermione asked, her tone curious. "How did...?"

"Turns out he never actually put the Wand back in the tomb." At their surprised faces, Harry said quickly, "He never intended to. He didn't think it was safe enough."

Ron shook his head in disbelief, a grin playing on his lips. "I never really figured Kingsley for such a smarmy bloke."

"And they just happened to have it _now_?" Hermione questioned suspiciously.

"Randal had it."

"Randal Flestern?" Ron piped in with the question. "The new Head Auror?"

Harry simply nodded. "Apparently they were holding it in shifts. Just a few people Kingsley trusts, until they finish screening all the employees at the Ministry."

"Screening?" Hermione asked them, which Ron answered with a nod.

"Percy told me about it. They still think there are moles. Maybe that's why they're not comfortable with letting the Wand out of their sight."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, her gaze falling on them both. "So that means..."

Ron and Hermione shared a look before they both turned their eyes on him.

"I know," Harry whispered, his very being tired with the prospect of going through the anxiety and fear all over again. But at that moment, there was nothing more to say.

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**A/N 2 - Here's a question. Which Death Eaters do you think survived the Final Battle? I'm curious as to whether your list of suspects would match mine. Feel free to PM me your answer if you don't want to review :D**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N - I'm baaack! Well, as back as I could be. Still have no idea where this story is going, but I will try to continue the daily updates. If not, at least every two days :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 31 -<strong> **Sunshine and Snowflakes**

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By the time Harry made his way back to Grimmauld Place, he was numb to all that was happening around him.

Hermione and Ron immediately started thinking about a contingency plan, one that involved more people including Neville, Seamus, Dean, the Patil twins and basically everyone who fought beside him during the Final Battle. Ron mentioned how no one in his family should know about the new development.

"You must understand, mate. Mum'll freak. You're like a son to her. And don't get me started on Ginny..."

Hermione did what she did best: a list. She immediately started listing down everyone she could remember during the Final Battle; those who fought for their side and those who fought for his. Considering that only just over half of the Death Eaters who had been there were either dead or imprisoned didn't help matters either.

As Ron and Hermione contemplated the new development, Harry contemplated them. He had to admit that there was a silver lining to this new twist of fate. The tension that had plagued the three of them during the past few days had been practically smothered into non-existence. Having a common enemy and a common goal did quite well in mending bridges and bringing back their old dynamic that he had leant on in order to constantly get through everything that life had thrown at him. He was comforted by it and appreciated it.

But he soon realized that the dynamic he had seen was mostly based on him. Ron took great care in sitting right next to him and not Hermione. He even went so far as to keep his gaze firmly on Harry and away from her. Harry could see how much that upset her. And he found himself watching her instead of focusing on the task at hand, which didn't really bode for him in the end.

"Harry? Are you even listening?"

Groaning, he ran his hand over his face in an effort to make himself stay awake. He was just tired. So very tired. "Not really, Hermione." He looked around the kitchen and wondered vaguely if he should get Kreacher to make him something to eat. "This is all well and good. But right now, all I want to do is go to my bed and lie down for a bit."

He could have sworn she looked offended. "We need to do something soon."

He knew that. Just as he knew that whoever it was that was hunting him was doing so just to get the most powerful wand ever made. But right this moment, he just didn't bloody care. He had been a target for most of his life. At some point, he was bound to just...not care. "But not necessarily today." Deciding that he'd had enough, Harry stood. "We can discuss this tomorrow. I highly doubt any assasin would be coming after me today." Then leaving their stunned expressions, he stalked out of the kitchen before climbing the stairs quickly.

As he made his way to his bedroom, he started unbuttoning his collar that seemed so much more constrictive than it had before he left for the Memorial Service. Closing the door after him, he pulled out the wand that had been his mentor's and placed it carefully on the bedside table before sitting down on the bed in defeat.

Sighing, he stared at the Elder Wand. Part of him was awed by it, while another part of him was terrified of it, while another, more primal part within him, wanted nothing more than to wield it. Harry had said 'no' to Kingsley when he had first offered the wand to him, knowing that it wasn't his place to take it. In his mind, the wand would always belong to Albus Dumbledore, and the last thing Harry wanted was to take his mentor's place. But Kingsley and all the others had finally managed to wear him down through pure logic. They said that he was the obvious target, that he had to defend himself and he should use the best chance he had. It was finally the need for self-preservation that made him take the wand from Randal's outstretched hand. The wand was safer with him and he was safer with the wand; that's what Kingsley had told him. But even as Harry took the wand, he knew that he wouldn't use it unless he absolutely had no choice.

Groaning, Harry let himself fall back onto the bed, screwed his eyes shut and threw an arm over his brow. Truth be told, since he was a child, it had always been the small things that made him happy. Aunt Petunia letting him play outside in the sunshine, Dudley's hand-me-down clothes being washed before they were given to him, Uncle Vernon sending him to his room so he didn't have to cook or clean, and even trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue that one winter the Dursleys gave him permission to play in the snow. Those were what made him happy as a child. And now, he wasn't sure if anything made him happy. He thought he would feel it once the war was over. But it seemed that for him, war was never over. And somehow, having the most powerful wand at his disposal and the knowledge that he was the one meant to wield it didn't help him feel secure.

He had waited so long for his life to truly start. He didn't know if he could wait any longer.

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**_TBC_**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 - All that once was and Temptation**

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"You should eat something."

Hermione's gentle tone did nothing to nudge Harry from the position he had fallen into earlier. He felt the need to lock himself away and brood for a while. That's how he conditioned his mind for nearly everything bad that had ever happened to him, and as far as he was concerned, this was just like any other time.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, keeping his forearm over his eyes in what he hoped she would interpret as him wanting to be alone. The slight depression in the mattress beside him proved that what he wanted wasn't effectively conveyed.

"Get up, Harry. It does no one any good when you get like this."

That prompted him to finally open his eyes and sit up, her tone only serving to insult him. "Get like what?"

She looked at him in exasperation; and he could tell she fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I thought you got over this need to feel sorry for yourself."

Harry felt the frustration that he had worked so hard to suppress start to boil to the surface. Gritting his teeth, he tried to stifle it further. "You think I'm feeling sorry for myself?" he hissed, his anger only increasing when Hermione looked at him defiantly as if his behaviour didn't surprise or startle her. "You think that I have no right to be just a little bit upset that someone else is trying to kill me?" Still she looked at him expectantly with that annoyingly calm expression, which only served to enrage him further. Didn't she get it? She, out of all people, had to understand where he was coming from.

He stood up suddenly, feeling the need to move, the need to try to control this ugly feeling of rage inside him. "I've spent my whole life being belittled and used and when I thought I finally had a place to go to where the Dursleys couldn't control me, I found that some mad man was out there trying to kill me. Seven years, Hermione. He was after me for seven years. All I dreamt about was finally being able to live life without looking over my shoulder. And just when I think I have it..." He let out a low, shaky breath, unable to quite finish that thought. The position he was in was beyond frustrating, and all he wanted was a little time to himself so he could accept that fact. He deserved it.

Hermione sighed tiredly, her expression still maddeningly neutral. "You weren't alone in it, Harry." He opened his mouth to disagree, but she spoke over him. "I know you were the target, but we were your army. We didn't want anything to happen to you and we stayed together because of it. None of us want this."

"I know that," he said, defeated. How could he not? The number of people who died trying to protect him was too many. "I just..."

"You just want it to stop."

He stared at her. "Yeah. I just want it to stop. I'd rather not go back to how everything was."

Hermione got off the bed with a humourless smile playing on her lips, her steps slow as she moved towards him. "You're not the only one. But you must realize that even if we don't want it to happen, it's happening."

Harry shook his head in denial. He didn't think he could do it again. He didn't think he could have the strength after experiencing that sense of safe relief for the first time in his life.

"Look at me, Harry."

Harry didn't, in fact, look at her, letting his eyes fall on the Elder Wand lying innocently on the bedside table instead. If anyone could convince him, it was her. And he didn't want to be convinced right now.

But Hermione wasn't going to give him that choice. She raised a warm hand to his cheek to nudge his face towards her, her other hand mirroring the first on his other cheek. "You are a great person. I know you think you can't do this, but I have faith in you. So does Ron."

He let out an exasperated breath. "Hermione-"

"I'm serious, Harry." She stepped even closer to him, her eyes intensely on his. "This is something we can win."

He looked back her shakily, his eyes meeting her warm, brown ones hopefully. He was aware that she shouldn't be able to convince him so easily; that she shouldn't really be allowed to have such power over him. She had used the word 'we' and said in no uncertain terms that he wasn't alone in this, even if he did forget that fact a few moments ago. The thought warmed him and blossomed hope in his chest. And at that moment, Harry didn't quite think. He just kissed her.

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**_TBC_**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N - Oh...You guys are _so_ not going to like me...When reading this chapter, remember it's still a few days after the war (when Hermione kissed Ron) and there's still 67 more chapters to go. I can't have them shagging their brains out for all those chapters, now, can I?... **

**Wait. Let me think about that ;P**

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><p><strong>Chapter 33 - Chase and Command.<br>**

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All Harry could hear over the deafening silence was his heartbeat that had started to speed up to an unimaginable pace. He was suddenly aware of the most ridiculous things. He was aware of the fact that the house seemed unusually humid, that a stray curl was tickling his brow, and that in his haste, his nose had bumped against hers gently. He was also aware that her breathing was ragged, she smelled lightly of perfume, and her lips had the faint taste of pumpkin juice. But most of all, he was deathly aware of the fact that she had stilled the moment his lips landed on hers and she wasn't responding, her hands instantly stiffening on either side of his face. She was rigid. So very _rigid._

Dread filling every part of him, he pulled back, his eyes meeting hers reluctantly.

As expected, Hermione's eyes were considerably wide, her lips parted in surprise. She stared at him incredulously and Harry had no doubt that he looked at her with that exact same expression on his face. It had been an impulse; as if his mind had no command over what his body had done. He had no idea where that impulse had come from, but it was something that he wasn't prepared for and he didn't really know how to react.

They simply stared at each other.

His heartbeat was getting louder with every second, while he looked at her with a mixture of dread, hope, frustration and panic. He started to feel himself twitch with nervousness. He had to say something. _Anything_.

"I-"

He didn't quite get to say what he was going to, even if he personally had no idea what he planned to spit out, for Hermione immediately clasped a hand on his mouth quickly to stop him from saying anything more. Her eyes widened in panic while she shook her head, completely flustered. "Don't say it."

Harry stared at her incredulously. This was _definitely _not what he had been expecting, and her peculiar behaviour effectively cut through his nervousness to create all out confusion. "What?" he couldn't help but ask, his voice coming out muffled against her fingers.

The question only seemed to cause her to panic even more. "We can't-" She stopped, her head shaking so fast her curls bounced crazily around her. "This is not-" She dropped her gaze from him, her eyebrows scrunching up in thought.

Harry waited patiently before he realized that she had gone into her own little world of analysis; and considering the absolute awkwardness he felt while he stood there with her fingers on his lips and her eyes glazed over in thought, he couldn't help but interrupt her.

"Hermione."

Her head snapped up fast, almost as if she had forgotten that he was there. "What?"

He looked at her meaningfully, his eyes looking down quickly to gesture at her hand, before his gaze rose up to meet hers.

A deep blush crept up her neck. "Oh. Right. Sorry." She pulled away her hand and took a step back.

"Hermio-" Again her hand was placed on his mouth, and he stared at her in surprise. Was she ever going to let him say _anything?_

"Don't. Say it." She gave him a meaningful look before she slowly took away her hand once again.

He opened his mouth to say something, but at the absolute panicked look she sported, he shut his mouth once again. He didn't quite fancy being told to shut up, even if he had no idea what he wanted to say to her.

Again, they stared at each other; and Harry had a distant feeling that she was trying to figure him out.

"I need to think about this," she said slowly, the blush on her neck having travelled upward, deepening the colours of her cheeks. "And you need to think about..." She looked around nervously before her eyes landed on the Elder Wand. "That."

Before he could say anything else, she sidestepped around him and started walking out of his bedroom. Harry simply stared in surprise before he decided to chase after her.

Just as he reached the door, Ron came up the stairs. Hermione paused, her glance going between the two of them in panic before she went down the stairs so quickly that anyone would have known that something was wrong. Ron watched her leave, his expression utterly confused. "What's up with her?"

Harry simply shook his head. "No idea."

What in buggering hell just happened?

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**_TBC_**


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 - No Dialogue and Tremble**

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It had been three days, and Hermione was avoiding him splendidly.

Harry had never been the type of bloke to understand what went on in that confusing web people called a female mind, but even he could understand that she didn't want to see him. At first, it worked out perfectly for him. After having his mouth go where his mind had told it _not_ to go, he kept himself busy, always left the room with muttered excuses whenever she entered it, and even resorted to ducking once in a while to save them both the need to be awkward around each other.

This arrangement he had made by himself had worked perfectly fine, until one day when he realized that he wasn't the first to leave the room. Harry had simply stared at the empty spot where she had been standing, as he realized that _she_ was avoiding _him_. The thought was too upsetting not to dwell on. And dwell on it he did.

Just to see if it was a fluke, he found himself one step behind her constantly, only to notice how her eyes widened like a deer in headlights before she left the room with some ill-used excuse involving books and research. And even though Harry didn't really want to confront her, he found the fact that his best mate was trying to avoid him truly annoying. He became bolder, started speaking to her in the form of greetings or even asking her questions. She always greeted him back and answered him easily before she once again would make an excuse and rush out of the room he was in. At some point, he really started to miss her companionship. However, this all changed when Ron came to visit them.

His mother had, with the whole household behind her, gotten out of bed. With the help of Ginny, George and even Percy, she had even stepped foot into the kitchen and started baking again. This had made Arthur Weasley so ecstatic that he had gone to sleep for two whole days, finally finding himself able to rest when his wife was showing signs of getting better. She still cried whenever she saw something of Fred's and always panicked whenever George left the house. But the important thing was that she was finally cooking, which was more than any of the Weasleys were hoping for. And Molly cooking meant the outcome of a certain predictable offer: dinner at the Weasleys. Harry jumped at the chance to spend time with someone other than Hermione, and tried his best not to balk in insult when she showed the same enthusiasm. It was obvious that they needed to be around others.

It was great being in the Weasley house when it was a bit livelier; Arthur was distracted by the faux attack at Hogwarts as well as the successful break in of Dumbledore's Tomb, spouting out a possible theory that the Ministry was considering; Percy found himself under a mountain load of work - which George rightly said he asked for - and never failed to drop heavy hints that he might be up for a promotion anytime soon; and Ginny helped her mother in the kitchen as Molly whisked the pudding she was making furiously, while the other kitchen appliances were magically put to work.

The mouth-watering scents, the never ending noise and the hustle and bustle of the small living space of the Burrow felt right. Harry couldn't help but feel that he had come home. After five minutes back in the Burrow, he didn't want to leave.

While Hermione went to help Molly in the kitchen, Harry stayed with Arthur, very aware that he couldn't tell the newest development for fear that the older Weasley would then tell his wife. Arthur never hid anything from Molly for fear of getting caught; nothing save his experimentation with certain Muggle artefacts. Percy felt the need to steer the conversation to a more politically inclined discussion, which George - though relatively more subdued - couldn't help but roll his eyes and state how absolutely droll his brother was. When George finally said he had enough and left the room, with Percy's eyes following him, did Harry wonder if the usually self- involved Weasley was annoying his younger brother to distract him. Harry had his answer when Percy followed George a moment later, calling out what he would do when he became Minister for Magic.

Even though Bill, Fleur and Charlie were forced to go back to their other lives with promises to return, the Burrow didn't seem as empty as it could have been without Fred. Harry was finally starting to feel like himself again; not exactly happy, but content. The only damper on his mood came when he saw Hermione step out to the backyard of the Burrow only to have Ron follow her out after a few moments. Harry felt that familiar unsettling feeling that trembled in his stomach but forced himself to concentrate on what Arthur Weasley was telling him.

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**_TBC_**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35 - Life or Death and Sensual**

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It felt like an angry monster was inside him, one that was snarling restlessly and wanted nothing more than to make itself heard. But Harry suppressed that feeling. He didn't want to do something rash only to regret it later. This was Hermione, after all. And Ron. It was actually Hermione and Ron while they stood out at the backyard of the Burrow, talking. They were just talking. And yet...

They had been there for quite some time. Harry had managed to sit through two long discussions with Arthur, one about the fruitless attack at Hogwarts, and one about the mechanism of a Muggle cricket bat, before he had excused himself and entered the kitchen. By then, Molly had decided to wash up and Harry found himself all alone as he sipped water from a goblet and looked out into the backyard under the personal pretence of appreciating the view.

Harry watched his best mates intensely, squinting at their profiles when the light got lesser from the setting sun. They seemed even friendlier than they were a few days before. He had never chosen to study a person's body language the way Hermione had always pressed him to do; he believed in what people were saying, rather than what they were not saying. But watching the two of them somehow made his senses pick up.

He noticed how Ron was faced fully towards Hermione, his shoulders hunched and his hands deep in his pockets. Hermione stood close to him, her attention divided between their best friend and the small leaf in her hand that she was rolling between her fingers. She always did that when she was nervous; that much Harry knew.

His grip tightened on the goblet when she looked up at Ron and let out a light laugh, her reaction to whatever he said making Ron look down while a small blush crept up his neck and ears. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had made Hermione laugh.

"Oh sorry."

Startled, Harry turned around, his eyes widening when he saw who had just entered the kitchen.

"I didn't know anyone was here," Ginny mumbled nervously. "Mum asked me to check the roast. So, I guess I'll...Um..." She gestured to the oven haphazardly before she ducked her head and made her way to stand before it. With a quick flick of her wand, she opened the oven door, checked the meat, shut the oven door and stood up to face him awkwardly.

Harry's mind was in the middle of reviewing possible conversation topics that could hopefully make this moment less awkward, when something over his shoulder caught Ginny's attention.

"How long have they been out there?"

Glad to have something other than the weather to talk about, Harry turned once more towards the window and watched his best mates. "I don't know," he said, lying easily. "Quite some time, I'm guessing."

He found himself surprised when Ginny came forward to stand alongside him. "It's about time."

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "About time for what?"

"The two of them," Ginny said softly. "I know that not all relationships are meant to work..." Harry immediately found his empty goblet extremely interesting. "But I hope theirs work."

Harry's head snapped up quickly just in time to see Hermione smile affectionately at Ron. "You think it would?"

Ginny shrugged, her gaze studying the two people out in the yard. "He's fancied her for ages; he was just too thick to realize it."

Harry stayed silent as he turned his back to the window. Suddenly, the thought of trying to figure out what was happening between Ron and Hermione was wholly unsettling. "Will Molly be coming down soon?"

Ginny shrugged lightly, her gaze dropping quickly so as to avoid his eyes. "She should be." Harry nodded, completely aware that they stood nervously opposite each other. "I should go call her."

At that moment, Hermione walked in with Ron, a laugh stopping in her throat the moment her eyes landed on the two of them. Her gaze fell on Harry in question while he looked back in defiance. On some, selfish level, he wanted her to think that there was something between him and Ginny to make her feel just as insecure as he was feeling whenever he saw Ron and Hermione together. The thought was balmy and all out mad, but he felt that he needed to make her feel what he was feeling. He wanted them to be even.

Ron didn't seem at all concerned by the awkward silence, choosing to simply mention something about calling him when dinner was ready before starting to leave the kitchen. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Hermione shared a small smile with Harry and Ginny before following Ron somewhat nervously. Harry chose to ignore the final look she sent him just before she left the kitchen. And even though that small moment couldn't be farther from a life or death situation that he found himself in frequently, his heartbeat seemed to think otherwise.

.

**_TBC_**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36 - They never said this would be easy and Family**

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Dinner with the Weasley family was unusually quiet. While before, there would be arguments, giggles and pranks, now everyone sat stoically in the place assigned by Molly Weasley and occasionally would say something like, 'Pass the peas, please'. It was so unnerving that Harry had to purposefully force himself not to study them individually and concentrate very hard on not shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

There was even a moment when he and Hermione had shared a look, almost as if they were the only ones who had realized the difference.

Harry couldn't also help but notice the small looks that Hermione kept throwing at him whenever she thought he wasn't looking. And he was pretty positive that the only reason she suddenly found him all that interesting was because Ginny just happened to sit right beside him. There had been a moment when Ginny's elbow had knocked against his, and there was a string of embarrassed apologies before they fell into silence. Ever since that mistaken occurrence, Hermione would glance at them quickly before looking away.

"So, Harry. Any plans for Grimmauld Place?"

Harry jerked is head up, noticing that he had been staring at Hermione only when he had to refocus his attention on all those around him. "Um...plans?"

Arthur Weasley swallowed his food to re-iterate. "Yes, plans. I'm sure you're not planning on letting Grimmauld Place stay in the same condition it's in. I've always found it too grim."

Harry dropped his gaze to the untouched food on his plate. "Er..."

"I remember a lot of rooms. Have you thought about how you're going to use them?"

Harry's gaze happened to fall on Ron, who shrugged, almost as if he was telling him to humour his father.

"I'm sure Harry will think of something, Dad," Ginny mumbled distractedly, her own fork and knife practically playing with the food on her plate. Harry would have smiled gratefully had she looked up at him.

"Hm..." Arthur continued thoughtfully, "I remember the funniest wizarding items around there. Do you suppose the Black family was into experimentation?"

Ron's snort effectively took the attention from Harry to his best mate. "What?" Ron asked with his mouth full of sausage before he swallowed it whole. "They were Death Eaters. I highly doubt they _weren't _into any sort of experimentation."

Harry couldn't help but join everyone else around their table as they stared at Ron is disbelief. His gaze then fell on Mrs Weasley who had been unusually quiet, and even now simply concentrated on slicing pieces of chicken rather than participating in the awkward conversation they were all reluctantly having.

A knock at the window was exactly what they needed, and the startled expression that was on everyones' faces was a cause to worry. Cautiously, Arthur stood up to open the window that Pig had a habit of always crashing into. This time, however, a falcon regally stepped forward before sticking out its leg while balancing perfectly on the other. Harry quickly glanced at Molly who seemed frozen in fear.

Looking at the sealed parchment, Arthur's brows knotted in confusion before he looked up. "It's for you, Harry."

Harry took the rolled piece of parchment from the older Weasley's hand, knowing that everyone was eyeing him with barely hidden curiosity. Breaking the seal, he unrolled the piece of paper and scanned the official document quickly, feeling grateful that no matter how much the Weasleys wanted to know what was in there, they didn't clamour on top of him to read the note themselves; they respected him too much.

"What does it say?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Kingsley wants to meet me tomorrow."

"Kingsley?" George piped in. "Why?"

"Dunno," Harry said with a shrug before he turned to face Arthur. "Can I borrow a quill?"

"Yes. Of course." With a flourish, Arthur picked up a quill and handed it to Harry, passing the ink bottle a moment later.

Keeping his head low, Harry jotted down a quick reply before making his way to the falcon that stood calmly on the windowsill. He tied the note to the bird's leg, and stepped back quickly when he saw the way the brown, beady eyes watched him.

The falcon turned on the spot, spread its wings, and took to flight, leaving Harry to smile sheepishly at everyone else before he took his seat and started paying serious attention to his food. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to talk about it, conversation slowly started up once again around the dinner table.

Harry found himself sneaking a look at the Muggle clock that Arthur had salvaged from one of his raids.

_Two hours more, _he thought to himself before he resigned to concentrate on what Percy was saying.

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**_TBC_**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N - This is where I apologize profusely for getting late to update. I have written until Chapter 40, and once I reach that, I'll have to stop again since there are a few other challenges that need my attention right now. (Two of them are H/Hr multi-chapters, so you really can't blame me ;D) **

**I'm sorry that this has been neglected due to these challenges. But signing up for these is an addiction I'm still working on curing.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 37 - Fate and When?<br>**

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It wasn't at all unexpected when Hermione and Ron cornered him just after dinner while they huddled together near the sink under the pretence of washing dishes.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked in a low voice as he looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was listening.

Harry couldn't help but make sure that no one was close enough to hear their conversation as well. "Kingsley is coming to Grimmauld Place."

Ron looked at him in confusion. "When? Tonight?"

Harry glanced at the Muggle clock as he wiped the last dish that was handed to him. "He'll be there in fifteen minutes, actually. We should hurry."

Hermione frowned. "Why did you tell everyone that he wanted to meet you tomorrow?"

"It was the only thing I could think of. He said to tell no one."

"And we're the exception to that rule?"

He looked at her seriously. "Of course."

Hermione held his gaze for a moment before looking away. "It sounds urgent. Maybe they have news about the attack."

"I hope they do. And I hope they know who's responsible," Ron mumbled, his voice taking on a dark tone. "That really worried Mum."

Hermione looked at Ron, her expression concerned. "She did seem out of it tonight."

The grateful smile Ron gave her felt like a punch against Harry's gut. "After she saw all of us safe, she got less barmy."

"Right," Harry said quickly, clearing his throat when he realized that he might have spoken a bit harshly. "We should get going." He then proceeded to ignore Hermione's scrutinizing look as Ron towelled his hands dry and tossed the towel aside.

"Give me a minute. I'll go tell Mum." Ron then looked at Hermione, stuttering, "Not that I need her permission or anything, but she'll worry, you know."

Hermione's smile was a mix of affection and amusement. "We know, Ron."

Looking between them one last time, almost in caution, Ron turned on his heel and left them both alone. Ron watched his best mate leave before his eyes fell on the one other person who was in the room. Following her gaze, his eyes fell on the painfully tight grip he had on the sink. He let go instantly, choosing to duck his head and turn away from her. It wouldn't do any good for him if she knew that any friendly interaction between Ron and her caused him to see red. It seemed that the older he got, the harder it was to tame the anger that spouted out at the most inconvenient times.

Finally alone in the same room only made the awkwardness between them that much more palpable.

"Dinner was nice," Hermione said softly, her tone thoughtful as she leaned against the sink.

Harry took the three steps away from her and took a seat at the table. "It was."

Another moment of silence followed.

"I didn't much care for the pie, afterwards."

Harry hesitated before he snuck a glance at her. "Ginny made that."

As he suspected, Hermione seemed flustered when he mentioned Ginny's name. "Oh, I...I didn't know that." She let out a nervous laugh. "Actually, now that I think about it, I probably didn't enjoy it because I was so full from the chicken."

"The chicken was quite good."

"Delicious."

Harry paused. "A bit bland."

Hermione snorted, a genuine laugh escaping her. "It was, wasn't it? I thought I was the only one who thought that."

Smiling, Harry shook his head. "Arthur has problems with spicy food now, remember?"

"I remember him saying something like that."

Again, they fell into silence. It was a bit more comfortable, and a lot less awkward, though with every passing second that seemed to change. Harry lost track of how many long seconds he sat there and stared at his hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione let out a small sigh. "I should go check on Ron. We don't want to be late."

Harry watched her as she straightened her top and passed right by him, hardly noticing when he blurted out her name. He was just as surprised as she was when she turned towards him.

"We're good, right?"

He tried to control his rapidly beating heart as he waited for her to answer. He wanted her to say yes. And he wanted her to say no. He couldn't tell what he wanted more, though.

"Yeah," Hermione said softly, effectively helping him to exhale in relief and tighten in dread at the same time. "We're good."

She left then, leaving Harry to groan out loud before dropping his head onto the table in frustration. Why did fate hate him?

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**_TBC_**


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 - Contemplate and Serenade  
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When Kingsley came to Grimmauld place - right on the hour, as promised - he didn't come alone.

Accompanying him were three wizards who Harry recognized as part of the group Kingsley had been standing with when he had offered Harry the Elder Wand. The sandy haired wizard was the only person Harry recognized, and when he held out his hand, Randy Flestern quirked his lips slightly and shook his hand with a firm grip before going back to the grim expression that he always sported. The other two wizards seemed disinterested and the way they held themselves made Harry think that they were bodyguards. He learnt how false his suspicions were only a moment later.

"Aiden Becker, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Neal Pacey, the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," Kingsley said in an authoritative voice as he introduced them. He then turned to Ron, his expression apologetic. "I would have asked your father, but I didn't think it would be fair to involve him just yet."

Ron mumbled that he understood and that it was fine by him, while Hermione led them to the kitchen. It was a surreal experience sitting down opposite these men who, together, ran the Ministry for Magic. And they all seemed to have some grave news to tell him.

"You haven't been careful, Mr Potter," Randal Flestern stated the moment he took his seat. "We informed you that it was important for you to stay hidden as much as you can. Walking around when you feel like it, especially without a glamour charm..."

"Harry doesn't need a glamour charm," Hermione piped in before her face contorted with worry. "Does he?"

The look the four Ministry officials gave each other caused him to worry. "Do I? Need a glamour charm, I mean."

Kinsley turned to face him, his expression serious. "There has been an attack."

Ron's eyes widened. "An attack?"

But Kingsley kept his gaze solely on Harry's, as if he was trying to convey something of immense importance. "We believe you were the target."

Even before Harry could let this new information sink in, Becker pulled out a folder from his robes and pushed a photograph towards him. "Do you recognize this man?"

Harry saw a struggling, screaming wizard with a short, snow white beard as he was held by two Aurors. His sleeves were rolled up to show the fading dark mark on his left forearm. Harry had never seen the wizard in his life, and shook his head to silently state that fact. When he looked up at the Ministry officials, they looked disappointedly at each other. "Who did he attack?"

"A boy, no older than fifteen," Neal Pacey stated in a tone of contemplation. "He had performed a glamour charm on himself to imitate your features."

_"Why?" _Harry asked incredulously. Who in their right mind would want to imitate _him?_

Flestern looked at him in all seriousness. "It was for his sister, Mr Potter. The child is suffering from a disease that the Healers say have no known cure. Her dream was to meet you. Her brother was simply trying to make his sister's wish come true by making her believe that you were there to serenade her with a song. It was while he was stepping out of St. Mungo's that the attack happened. After interviewing witnesses, we realized that this Death Eater had been at St. Mungo's visiting a patient when he had seen the boy leave, wearing your glasses and signature scar. It wasn't difficult to confuse the two of you. He was roughly the same height, and had the same body type."

There was only one thing that stood out from what Flestern had said. "He _had_ the same body type?" he whispered in dread.

Becker looked at him with sympathy that seemed more distanced than sincere. "I'm sorry to say that the boy was hit by the killing curse. There was nothing anyone could have done. Luckily, the culprit was apprehended because he was so focused on killing you that he didn't notice one of my Aurors who was entering the building to interview a witness."

Hermione looked at them in horror. "Why haven't we heard about this? Why isn't this in the Daily Prophet?"

"We can't let people know about these attacks, Ms Granger," Pacey said slowly, though somewhat sternly. "There would be mass panic."

"And what do people think it is now?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

Pacey shrugged. "A spell backfired. That's how we're explaining it."

"A spell backfired?" Ron questioned in disbelief. "Who would believe that load of bollocks?" Harry was vaguely surprised that Hermione didn't chastise his best mate on his use of language.

"You would be surprised," Kingsley mumbled dryly. "People would believe anything if the right people tell them." After a moment of silence, he turned towards Harry. "It's not safe to be you anymore, Harry. Do you understand what we're telling you?"

But Harry found himself too distracted by the image of the murderous wizard in the moving picture. He felt sick to his stomach.

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**_TBC_**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N - Sorry for the delay. I've stated the reason at the end of this chapter. I promise you, it's a good one ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 39 - If things were different and Hunger<strong>

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"Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry looked up.

"Do you understand what we're telling you?"

Harry kept his expression passive, the surprising feeling of calm enveloping him suddenly. "Yes, I understand. There are people out there who want to kill me. Or at least, get the power of the Elder Wand for themselves."

Kingsley looked back at him with worry for a moment before he nodded his assent. "We need you to be careful. When you leave Grimmauld Place, we need you to take your cloak with you; wherever you might go. And we think that it might be best if you stay hidden for a while; at least until we understand who's looking for you."

Harry's gaze fell on the struggling wizard in the picture, his eyes studying the Dark Mark on his exposed forearm. "But we do know who's after me, don't we?"

Flestern leaned forward. "As far as we're aware, the Death Eaters are no longer an active organisation. The fall of You-Know-Who-"

"Voldemort," Hermione stated curtly, earning a reluctant shiver from the three men around the table. "His name is Voldemort." Then, as if realising what she had said, her glance fell on Harry. "His name _was_ Voldemort." But Harry hardly noticed, his gaze still fixed on the photograph in front of him.

Randy Flestern cleared his throat as his glance reluctantly met his comrades. "Yes, well...As that may be, just as before when he was defeated, there seems to be no one who has taken his place to lead the Death Eaters. But that doesn't mean that they are individually not interested in attaining the power of the Elder Wand for themselves."

Harry could feel the eyes of his best friends resting on him curiously which only served to make his jaw twitch in annoyance. They all looked at him in a way that he really should have gotten used to by now. Their gazes, full of expectation, were waiting for his reaction. But Harry didn't feel like reacting. He didn't feel anything at all. "Got it," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Everyone who knows about the Elder Wand wants it and they are willing to kill me for it."

Kingsley eyed him curiously, as if he wasn't sure if the true meaning of what he was saying had truly sunk in. "What we're saying is-"

"That I'm not safe." His lips quirked humourlessly by their own accord. "I'm never safe."

He suddenly felt a warm hand on his knee, Hermione's fingers squeezing him in comfort. But he didn't feel like he needed that at the moment. He didn't want any of that. He just wanted to be alone and process everything that had been told to him.

"If things were different-"

"But they're not, are they?" Harry said swiftly, interrupting the concerned voice of the current Minister for Magic. "Things are never different." Gently, he placed his own hand over Hermione's, lifting her fingers from the tight grip she had on his knee. "Thank you; for telling me," he said politely, his voice hollow. "I appreciate you coming down here to tell me yourself."

He then pushed his chair back roughly and stood up, not missing the quick look of panic that Hermione and Ron shared. He simply stood there, aware that he should say something to the people around the table; but nothing seemed to come to mind. Without another word, Harry simply turned on his heel and left, heading towards the only place that could be considered his haven from all things that threatened to destroy the peace of mind he had tried so hard to achieve. As he entered his bedroom, the numb feeling he had been experiencing started giving away to a feeling of hunger; for what, he wasn't quite sure. But then, his gaze landed on the Elder Wand, and that hunger he felt in his chest almost purred in agreement. Harry had promised himself that he wouldn't touch the Elder Wand unless he had to. He viewed it as Dumbledore's wand. And yet...

With cautious steps, Harry moved slowly towards the most powerful wand in existence, his hands unsteady as he picked it up. Like before, it didn't feel foreign to him the way he thought it would; which was one of the reasons why he was so reluctant to use it. He knew what Dumbledore went through with the pursuit of ultimate power; wizards better than him had lost themselves to some of the most powerful artefacts in the world. Harry had promised himself that he would never try to possess something that could destroy him. And yet here he stood with the Death Stick in his hand and he felt no more corrupted than before. Dumbledore wielded it without giving into its ultimate power, surely, he could too if he tried.

Pocketing the Elder Wand as well as his own modest Phoenix feather wand, Harry made his way down the stairs, wincing with every creak or groan the old wood made. Once he was safely at the landing, he glanced into the kitchen, noticing the six of them still in deep discussion, each of their expressions grim with worry.

Harry didn't stay to see any more than what he had to. With soft steps, he went towards the main door of Grimmauld Place, opened it and stepped out. Once he closed the door after him, he stepped onto the landing and Apparated away, feeling so much more light-hearted as he did so.

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**_TBC_**

**A/N - Another reason why I've been so busy is because me and two others have decided to create the 'Harmony Awards', an award community to award those great Harry/Hermione fanfictions and art. Nearly every other ship has one, shouldn't harmony? ;D**

**We will be posting the list of categories and Round 1 rules in a few days. In the meantime, the link to the community could be found on my FF profile page. We open nominations on Sep. 3rd. So go look for your favourite art and stories that are Harry/Hermione based and come on over and nominate. It is not only for LJ users. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me. **

**And spread the word. The more participants, the better the awards :D**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/n - I don't want to jinx it, but I think I might be able to continue with the daily updates. *crosses fingers***

**FYI - Still don't know where this story is headed. Oh, what fun :D  
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><p><strong>Chapter 40 - Differences and Ragged<strong>

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_"Reducto."_

The small piece of log burst into a million pieces, scattering itself on the twigs and leaves littered all around the forest floor. But it didn't help much. It didn't feel enough.

Raising his arm, Harry then aimed his wand towards the log that was once beside the now pulverised piece of wood. "_Expulso." _This felt infinitely more satisfying. The exploding piece of log accompanied by the sound felt closer to what he had wanted. And yet, it didn't quite reach the mark. Sighing, he let his arm fall limply to his side, wondering if he needed something bigger. Something that could turn into debris within a few seconds and give him the satisfaction that he wanted. But looking around the Forest of Dean, there didn't seem to be anything else that he wanted to destroy.

Pocketing his wand, Harry moved with heavy footsteps around the forest he remembered so well, the loud scrunching of leaves under him practically music to his ears. He liked the quiet; he always had. His childhood had consisted of being woken up with heavy pounding on the door, yelling for him to clean the house, cook breakfast or even wash Dudley's awful clothes. That life was then replaced gradually by loud noises in his head. At the age of seventeen, he looked forward to a life of peace and quiet. He didn't want any of what was happening now.

Once he came towards a fairly large clearing, Harry reached for his wand, his fingers brushing against the unfamiliar texture of the Elder Wand. After a moment of hesitation, he picked it up, his gaze falling on it curiously.

Part of him had to wonder if using it would feel different from his own. Would he feel a connection to it that was much stronger than the phoenix feather? After using it, would he prefer to use the Death Stick for the rest of his life? The idea seemed rubbish in his mind. He'd had his wand for most of his life, he couldn't imagine parting with it for good.

But then he did need to master the Elder Wand; if not for his sake, for the sake of all those around him. The idea that people were after something that they thought would make them powerful beyond comprehension was ridiculous. For the longest time he had thought that it was the wizard that had the power, not the wand.

_But it does make people powerful. It made Dumbledore the most powerful wizard alive. Could he have defeated Voldemort all those times had he never been the true master of the Elder Wand?_

He twirled the stick in his hand, getting the feel of it, the balance. He could imagine what Ron would have said had he been here. _Go on, Harry. Try something. Something wicked, something difficult._

Hermione, on the other hand, would be more logical in her approach. _Do a basic charm first. Get used to the wand before you do a difficult spell. _But, Hermione wasn't with him, and he felt the need to just try something.

Usually, he had to think of something happy, something that could fill him up. But all that came to mind was the moment he had seen his parents, Sirius, and Remus in the Forbidden Forest, followed shortly by the memory of his hand being held and a kind smile sent his way. He winced, he shouldn't really be thinking about Hermione. The thought of her didn't really bring out the feeling of happiness within him. He felt unsure, apprehensive and nervous when she was around. But then there would be a moment when she would look at him, just look at him as if he was the only other person around, and his chest would swell.

Distracted by the thought of his best friend, and hardly believing that what he was about to do would work, Harry lifted his wand. _Expecto Patronum, _he found himself thinking. One spell he had never been able to cast nonverbally. The bright silver light that burst from the tip of his wand caused his eyes to widen in surprise. At the back of his mind he couldn't help but think of how positively delighted and proud Hermione would have been had she been here to see this. The conjured smoke twisted the way it usually did, its shape forming quickly. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken when he realized that the silvery smoke was forming something smaller than what it usually did; something without antlers. Panicking, he dropped his arm, ending the spell before the Patronus could take full form.

Harry simply stared at the spot where the Patronus had been barely a few seconds ago before he stumbled backwards until his back hit a tree. Feeling his legs weaken, he dropped down to the forest floor ungracefully, the thrumming of his heartbeat drowning in his ears. Pocketing the wand with shaky fingers, he simply sat there, dropping his head against the bark of the tree and closing his eyes in order to concentrate on slowing down his rapidly beating heart.

He really shouldn't have thought of Hermione.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N - I love drama, you say? Why yes, yes I do :D And to Jax33 - Hermione will definitely get a chance to tell her side. ;)  
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><p><strong>Chapter 41 - Two paths diverge and Sleepwalk<strong>

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By the time Harry came back to Grimmauld Place, his mood hadn't improved all that much. It failed to improve further when he had just made his way to the kitchen in search of something to satisfy his thirst.

"Where have you been?"

He winced at Hermione's tone, choosing to keep his back turned towards her. "Out," he said curtly, deciding to go through the motions of pouring himself a glass of water as a means of distraction.

"Out?" she snapped, her voice getting closer. "You were _out?_ Do you have any idea how worried we all were?"

Harry felt his jaw tighten in annoyance. He had left to try and let loose some of the anger that had been inside him; but that hadn't happened. The rage in him had simply coiled itself inside his chest and it felt ready to snap at any moment. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

He could practically hear the harsh intake of breath behind him. "You're not _fine._ You have never been _fine."_

"Great," he mumbled bitterly before he turned around to face her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He eyed her dressed in her pyjamas as she stood at the entrance of the kitchen, her curls piled high and her eyes lacking their usual lustre from sleep. "Were you asleep?"

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Yes, Harry, I was sleeping. I sleepwalk, generally, don't you know?"

His own eyes narrowed at her sarcastic tone. "I take it you're upset."

"Yes, I'm upset," Hermione said passionately as she stepped closer to him. "You can't just leave whenever you feel like it. What if something had happened? We wouldn't have known where to find you."

"Well, considering I'm standing right in front of you _without_ any injury, I think you can guess that I wasn't attacked on the way over here." Leaving the untouched goblet of water, he walked past her, stopping only when he heard Hermione speak.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Harry said automatically as he turned to face her again. "Everything's fine. Peachy, even."

She studied him incredulously. "I don't understand why you're upset with me. I just need to know you're safe, that's all. I worry about you."

Harry shifted on the spot in agitation. Part of him wanted to leave before he said something stupid, while another part of him really wanted to say what he thought. The latter seemed to win over. "And why is that, exactly?" he asked in mock curiosity.

Hermione looked at him as if she had been slapped. "You're my friend," she said softly. But even he had to admit that she didn't sound all that convinced.

Harry unconsciously clenched his fingers into fists, that feeling of anger inside him fighting to come out. "Just friends then?" he found himself blurting out.

Her eyes widened, her arms rising to circle herself almost in defence. "I-" She looked at him pleadingly. "Where is this coming from?"

Harry decided to step closer to her as he felt a need consume him; the need to call her out and make her admit that there might be something more than friendship between them, that he was not the only one who felt the way he did. "I just asked a simple question."

_But not a question with a simple answer_, her eyes seemed to silently tell him. He watched her as she struggled with what she wanted to say, her bottom lip being bitten and her shoulders hunching nervously.

After a few long moments passed, Harry started to lose his patience. "Or have you and Ron decided to move past friendship?"

If he had been unconsciously trying to hurt her, he felt that he was having a good go at it. Putting her on the spot made him feel like a selfish prat while at the same time, it made him feel infinitely better. But that didn't change what he truly wanted. He wanted her to answer him. He wanted to hear the words come out of her mouth. _I want her to choose me,_ he suddenly realised. That's what he really wanted. And if not, he'd rather her be honest and say that she preferred Ron.

But the girl in front of him didn't say a word; she just stared at him in unbridled panic.

He found himself unable to wait for an answer. As far as he was concerned, her silence meant bad news for him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Hermione standing alone in the kitchen.

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	42. Chapter 42

**A/N - Remember how you all said chapters should be longer? It's come back to that point where I wish it was. But the rules help with the daily updates so... Yeah. Sorry. **

**When you read this chapter keep in mind... Impulsive, stubborn, reckless and a hero complex...That's our Harry. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 42 - An empty picture frame and Glimpse<strong>

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When Harry went back to his bedroom, the only thing he felt like doing was to pace the length of the room in agitation, the way he had seen lions pace within their cages on the one instance he had ever been to a zoo. He flexed his fingers, his legs moving of their own accord while his neck and back felt too stiff to move. He felt the need to kick something; break something. Having that conversation with Hermione only seemed to aggravate him further and he felt willing to do anything to stop this unhappy feeling that had settled in his chest.

All he could think about was that one time he had seen Tonks conjure a Patronus. He hadn't known exactly what that meant at the time until he had heard what the others in the Order thought of it. Now, he wasn't so sure if he wanted to accept that logic. Then there was Snape. Snape and his mother.

Without realising what he was doing, Harry headed straight to the large wardrobe in the corner of the room, pulling it open roughly to drag out the bag he had used while on the hunt for Horcruxes. It really was in a despicable state. It was worn, torn and dirty, but for now, it would do.

Harry went about the bedroom collecting everything that he wanted to take with him; his clothes, a few books, the picture of his mum and dad, leaving the empty photo frame. He packed everything he thought his rucksack could carry; anything that he might miss. With every item he packed, he felt that much lighter, which only convinced him that this was the right thing to do. He didn't know why it took him so long to figure out that he needed to leave, but now that he did, he was positive that nothing could convince him to stay.

Pulling on the strap, he checked the weight of the bag, mentally cursing himself for never asking Hermione how to perform the Undetectable Extension Charm. On the other hand, he could easily pretend to be a traveller with a rucksack on his back rather than wandering alone with nothing to carry his belongings in.

With a low breath, he heaved the heavy pack over his shoulder, glanced one final time at the bedroom that had been his for just over a week, and left, closing the door behind him softly. He stopped at the landing when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't seen Kreacher all that much since Hermione and he had moved in. There would be times when the house elf would be pottering about in the kitchen or in several dusty rooms within Grimmauld Place, but for the most part he had kept his distance; probably because of Hermione. His absence might make the house elf that much happier.

As he had done a few hours before, Harry descended the stairs slowly, trying his best not to make a sound and wake up Hermione again. That thought completely left his mind when he heard her voice coming from the kitchen.

"I don't know."

His brows knitting together in confusion, Harry started heading towards the kitchen instead of the front door, keeping his back against the wall so he could catch a glimpse of who she was talking to. He saw Hermione on her knees in front of the fireplace, her hair dishevelled and her eyes puffy as if she had been crying.

"Do you want me to come over?"

Harry felt his jaw tighten when he recognised Ron's voice.

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No. Don't. I'll talk to him."

"You should do more than talk to him. You should go barmy on him. What was he thinking, leaving like that? The least he could have done was to leave a note."

"He just needed to be alone."

"Well, yeah. All of us do. He can be as alone as he wants. All he has to do is tell us, innit?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "I'll handle it."

"Good," Ron said forcefully. "I better get back. Are you sure you don't want me to join you?"

She shook her head. "Goodnight, Ron."

There was moment of hesitation before his best friend said, "Night, Hermione."

After sharing a small smile, the fireplace lost its green tinge, its flames becoming its usual shade of orange fire.

Harry watched her as she sat before the crackling fire, her eyes on the entwined fingers on her lap. "You're leaving, then."

Harry felt himself stiffen as her eyes rose and met his squarely. He had thought that she wouldn't notice him. She didn't even sound all that surprised.

"I heard you come down the stairs," Hermione whispered, answering the question he had left unasked. Her eyes then landed on the rucksack he carried. "I suppose you don't want me to go with you."

Feeling ashamed, Harry dropped his gaze from hers. He had no idea what to say; what to do. He just wanted to leave.

Hermione stood up slowly, keeping his eyes on him kindly. "It's all right, Harry. I understand." Looking around, she gestured to the kettle she had left on the fire. "At least have some tea before you go."

She looked at him with so much hope. Glancing towards the door behind him, Harry sighed, dropping his rucksack where he stood before entering the kitchen. He had been so close. The smile she gave him was small, but sincere. It baffled him on what he was willing to do just to see her smile.

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	43. Chapter 43

**A/N - Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and encouragement. And then I go do something like this. *ducks and runs*  
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><p><strong>Chapter 43 - Black Sheep and Questions<strong>

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Harry stayed silent as he sat and waited while Hermione poured them both a cup of steaming hot tea before she took the seat opposite him. Somehow, keeping his attention on his own cup didn't distract him from how awkward he felt. A few moments passed before she said anything.

"I-"

He looked up, but Hermione simply smiled at him apologetically. "I know what you want from me, Harry. But I don't know if I can give it to you."

Harry immediately regretted not turning away from her and leaving when he had the chance. The rejection stung. It seemed to feel worse when he thought about how this whole business had successfully ruined one of the best friendships he had ever had. But one thing was for sure, he didn't have it in him to stay close to her for another minute.

"Right," he said nodding, his voice unusually hoarse. "I understand." He made a move to leave, stopping when Hermione placed her hand on his.

"Wait," she said in panic. "You didn't let me finish."

He really should have left. Instead, against his better judgement, he pulled his hand from under hers and looked at her expectantly. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing that she could do to make him feel better or worse. He felt absolutely horrid. When she looked down at her own cup of tea, her fingers circling it, he felt his patience start to leave him. "Well?"

Startled, she looked up. It took a moment, but once she took in a shaky breath, she looked ready to continue. "Do you remember when we started out last year? Everything was so clear then. We had this monumental task that we didn't know how we were going to perform. All we knew was that we had to do it, no matter what. We set out with one goal in mind and we knew what everyone thought."

Harry simply looked back with mild curiosity. Hermione always had a way of explaining things to him plainly when he didn't quite understand the situation, but that didn't mean that he didn't know what she was going on about now.

"We were fine, the three of us, weren't we? And then, Ron left," she finished softly. "Honestly, I never would have expected him to leave us the way he did. I don't know if I've even forgiven him for it," she whispered with a light shrug. "But he did leave, and we were left alone."

This time, when she looked at him with her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Harry found himself unable to meet her gaze; so he looked away.

"We shared something...profound and intense. You were everything to me those few months, just as I'm sure that I was everything to you. It's only natural that-"

"Don't," he said forcefully. He knew where she was going with this and he rather not hear it. "Don't tell me what I feel and why."

"I wasn't trying to."

"Yes, you were." He leant forward. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, just don't make it sound as if what I feel is nothing."

She swallowed nervously, her eyes widening exponentially. "I never said that."

Harry slumped against his seat in defeat. He really should have left when he had the chance. This time when he tried to stand up, she stood up as well.

"Harry-"

He simply ignored her, making his way over to the fallen rucksack and picking it up easily.

"Don't leave." She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

He tried to shrug her arm off, but she wouldn't let him. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Let go, Hermione."

She stood her ground, her eyes defiant. "No. You need to hear what I have to say."

"I already heard what you had to say." He pulled his arm again, only failing to dislodge himself from her grip.

"Not everything."

"I heard enough."

Hermione stepped in front of him, her jaw set and her eyes brilliantly lit. "I didn't lie when I said that you were everything to me. And I can't lie and say that I know what I feel for you. Everything is jumbled right now. I don't know if what we're going through is a phase or something more. But I'm not willing to risk our friendship in case it is a passing fancy."

He didn't know why, but he didn't quite believe her. "It's Ron, isn't it? You're just trying to let me down gently."

"No," Hermione said in a pleading tone, stepping closer while the grip on his arm tightened. "Didn't you hear me? I told you that you meant the world to me. You still mean the world to me. Do you have any idea how I felt when I thought you had _died_. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't-" She took in a shuddering breath, a lone tear escaping her eye to travel slowly down her cheek. "I still feel like hitting you when I think about it. You should _never_ do that to me again. _Never._"

He shook his head. He understood, he really did. But that didn't change the way he felt. "Hermione-"

But she stepped even closer, interrupting him easily with her next words. "I've loved you since I was little, Harry. I've loved you as a friend. I don't know anything else. What you're asking-" She met his gaze. "Do you know what you're asking me?"

"I'll understand if you don't," he found himself saying. He wouldn't, really, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't try.

"I'm not saying that I don't," she said softly, the grip on his arm loosening. "I'm saying that I don't know." She looked at him earnestly. "How am I supposed to know that what I feel for you is anything more than what I always thought it was?"

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	44. Chapter 44

**A/N - I gotta to say, you guys are amazing. You understand what I'm trying to do here (show flawed characters in a situation where clarity is lacking and their slow journey as to how they finally arrive in the place I envision them to be after). Thank you so much for your patience. I know you need it with such short chapters.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 44 - Sunburn and Fringe<strong>

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"I don't want you to leave."

Harry sighed, the rucksack he held feeling heavier by the minute. "I can't stay."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, leaning a shoulder against the wall so as to continue to block him in. "Then I'll leave. You need to be somewhere safe; Grimmauld Place is perfect for that. I guess I could go to the Burrow for a few days..." she ended thoughtfully.

"You mean to Ron," he said without thinking.

He could tell that she was more than a little annoyed when he mentioned their best friend's name. She had spent a good part of half an hour trying to explain to him that it had nothing to do with anyone else, only to have him blurt out Ron's name the first chance he had. Harry wasn't about to apologise for it. No matter what she said, he knew that Ron had tried to stake his claim on her; how was he supposed to forget that?

"This has nothing to do with Ron," Hermione said slowly, her voice controlled, yet forceful.

"So you said."

"Harry," she said tiredly. "I'm not with Ron right now; you know that."

"But you will be."

"I never said that."

He simply stared at her before shifting the rucksack that rested on his shoulder. "I should go."

But once again, she blocked him. "What do you need to hear to convince you that I'm not lying? That I honestly don't know how I feel?"

"I don't know," Harry said in annoyance. "All I know is, what you said doesn't make sense. If you don't feel anything, why can't you just say it-?"

"I _can't."_ Hermione looked at him, almost pleading with him to understand. "I don't know how I feel."

He narrowed his gaze at her. "Bollocks. You know and you're not being honest about it."

"I am being _completely_ honest."

Harry simply shook his head in disbelief, walking past her easily.

"I'm not lying about this, Harry."

He ignored her pleading tone, feeling the need to get away. He didn't want her pity. The whole world had always pitied him and he had never liked it; he didn't fancy getting lied to because of that same bloody reason.

"I felt something, alright?" He stopped suddenly, just before he reached the door. "When you kissed me, I felt something. I don't know what it was, and I've never felt it before, but it was there."

Reluctantly, Harry turned to face her, wondering if she was making it all up so he wouldn't leave. But she didn't look like she was lying. She looked scared and exposed and completely different from the Hermione who was always sure of herself.

He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but as usual, his need to get everything out in the open overpowered his sense. "What about when you kissed Ron?"

She seemed thrown by the question. "I don't know," she said sincerely. "At the time there was so much going on-"

"And yet you kissed him."

She looked at him incredulously. "You can't be upset with me for that."

"I'm not." He said in frustration. "I just...I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

"But that's the thing, isn't it? You know everything. You're supposed to tell me when I need something for a sunburn, or when a girl in my class likes me, or what we should do next when someone is trying to kill me. You've always known everything, Hermione."

Her expression said clearly how hopeless she probably felt. "I don't know what you want from me."

Harry's jaw twitched in frustration. "I want you to tell me the truth. If you see yourself more with Ron-"

"I didn't-"

"-then I'll back off," he said quickly, interrupting what he was sure was going to be some form of denial. "I'll forget this whole thing ever happened. And I will let the two of you be." He eyed her expectantly. "That's all I want; the truth."

She looked away from him. "So you can easily forget all of this, then?"

Harry shifted nervously. "If you want me to."

"You don't mean that," she said slowly, her gaze eying him critically.

He hesitated. "Maybe not."

A short, sarcastic laugh escaped her. "Merlin, we're in a right pickle, aren't we? I kissed Ron, you kissed me, and I don't know what I'm doing. I feel too old for this."

Reluctantly, his own lips twisted in amusement. "Technically, we're not even twenty."

Hermione snorted, her laugh too infectious to ignore. "You're right. I suppose we were too busy fighting the good fight to actually pay attention to all of this."

He looked at her seriously then. "And now that we are?"

Her grin fell almost instantly, a glint of determination appearing in her eye. "Stay, Harry. Let us help you. In the grand scheme of things... this is nothing." She gave him a meaningful look. "You know that."

He somehow knew that that wasn't the only reason. "You want to buy yourself some time."

She smiled affectionately at him. "You know me so well."

Harry glanced at the front door of Grimmauld Place, the need to simply run towards it overwhelming him. "What makes you think I'll give it?"

She stepped forward, her hand lightly brushing his away before she grabbed the strap on his shoulder and pulled it away from him, letting the rucksack fall to the floor. "Because, Harry Potter," she said in that logical tone he knew so well, "you and I are first and foremost friends." She lugged at the bag and tossed the strap over her own shoulder. She then met his gaze, one hand rising to brush away a few dark strands that had fallen into his eyes. "And friends do anything for each other."

With a final, albeit grateful smile, Hermione went back into the kitchen with his rucksack in tow.

Harry couldn't help but wonder...Why couldn't he say 'no' to her?

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	45. Chapter 45

**A/N - Sorry for the delay. Looks like I'll have to take another quick break from this story while I sort out the mountain of work I have. The bright side? We're nearly half-way through :D  
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><p><strong>Chapter 45 - Body of water and Diamond<strong>

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The stone in his palm felt as hard as a diamond. He flipped it once, twice, then paused as he studied the defined edges of the black stone. It was so small and so light. The mineral seemed to almost shine in the sunlight that was streaming through window at Grimmauld Place. Vaguely, he wondered if it would shine just as brightly had it been at the bottom of a lake; just like how the Sword of Gryffindor had given its location away because of its Goblin-made silver.

"Is that-?"

Despite himself, Harry fisted the black rock in his hand and prepared to hide it in his pockets. But the reflex felt useless. With a sigh, he opened his palm and tossed the stone onto the kitchen table he was sitting at, shaking his head at her incomplete question. "No. It's just a rock. I transfigured it."

She let out a relieved breath before she took the seat opposite him. "I thought you had brought back the Stone."

"I wanted to," Harry said thoughtfully, picking it up and studying the imitation. "I wanted to know what Sirius would say when I told him that we defeated Voldemort. And Mum and Dad," he added softly.

"I'm glad you didn't, though." Her eyes fell on the rock he had transfigured. "May I?"

Reluctantly, Harry held out his hand, letting Hermione lift up the rock with careful fingers and study it with eager eyes. "It looks exactly like it." She looked up at him. "To make an imitation this accurate takes a lot of skill, Harry," she said softly, her tone showing exactly how impressed she was by the level of magic he seemed to be exhibiting.

"Not really," Harry said with a wince before he pulled out the Elder Wand that he had pocketed earlier. Hermione watched him as he placed it on the table in front of them.

"You're using it?" she asked, in complete surprise.

"Not for that much. Small spells, here and there."

She handed him the stone back. "What's it like?"

"Easier. I don't have to concentrate that much."

She gave him an amused and somewhat reprimanding look. "Imagine if you had that during Hogwarts."

He grinned. "I would have been brilliant at Charms and Transfiguration. I might even have been First in the class."

Hermione snorted. "Don't get carried away, Harry. You would have still needed to beat me."

"Of course," Harry said with mock seriousness. "I'm saying I would."

She let out a light laugh, choosing to grab the stone he had placed on the table and tossing it at his head. "That would be a cold day in hell," Hermione stated smugly as she stood up.

Easily blocking the makeshift weapon, Harry grinned before he stood up himself, subconsciously grabbing her hand to stop her from leaving. "I knew you were always scared of a little competition. What would you have done if you were never 'Hermione, the bookworm'?"

"I wouldn't have had to worry about that," Hermione sniffed haughtily, her eyebrows rising the way McGonagall's did when she stated something obvious. "I would then be known as 'Hermione, the person who kept Harry Potter alive so he could save us all."

Harry scrunched his brows together in thought. "Funny. I don't quite remember you doing all that much."

"Really?" Hermione asked incredulously, her grin wide despite the insult that he had mockingly hurled at her. "And to think the saviour of the wizarding world is a right _arse_." She shoved his chest lightly.

Harry swayed backwards jokingly, keeping his free hand on his chest to fake pain. "But, still a saviour, no doubt."

She rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter, you are one of the most egotistical-"

He leant forward and kissed her. He didn't think about it. Actually, he'd rather not think about it at all. It was simply something that he felt like doing. It was a moment that felt right in the grand scheme of things. He found himself surprised when his lips met hers and she responded. A light meeting of the lips that ended quickly.

When his eyes rose to meet hers, their faces still close, he could practically feel the blush radiating off her flushed skin. She looked away from him. "That was-"

He didn't let her finish. Entwining his fingers with hers, he bent down until his lips met hers again. This time, the kiss was more than a mere meeting of lips. Hermione responded; hesitantly at first while a hand rose to the back of his neck and caused a slight shiver to traipse up his spine. This in turn made him step that much closer to her and circle his arm around her waist, making her backtrack until her thighs hit the table. It was unlike any other kiss he had ever experienced before in his life. It felt like he knew her; _really_ knew her. This was Hermione, after all, how could he not?

It was the tiny sound of pecking against glass that made her pull away from him, her eyes travelling over his shoulder towards the glass window that his back was to. "It's that eagle again."

Harry reluctantly let her go so she could open the door and take the note from the leg the eagle pompously stuck out. Without waiting for a reply, it hopped on one leg, turned around and took to flight.

Hermione opened up the note slowly, her brows furrowing in thought. "Kingsley wants to see us in an hour."

"Where?"

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his meaningfully. "The Burrow."

Harry felt his jaw twitch in annoyance. "Brilliant."

She shifted nervously before gesturing towards the stairs. "I should go get ready."

Harry simply nodded, watching her leave with the note in her hand. Once she left, he let out a breath he had no idea he had been holding.

_That went splendidly_, he thought sarcastically to himself.

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**_A/N2_- A quick note to let you all know that I just uploaded the Nomination Rules as well as the Award Categories for the Harmony Awards (link to be found on my profile). Keep in mind, even though it's on LJ, you need not have an LJ account to nominate. Don't forget! The nomination period is from Sep 3rd to Sep 23rd! Hope you decide to participate :)  
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